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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22515193">The Tracy Prize</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HedwigsTalons/pseuds/HedwigsTalons'>HedwigsTalons</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Thunderbirds</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Comfort, F/M, Pranking, Stalking, Terrorists, Theft, cyber crime</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:49:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>25,440</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22515193</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HedwigsTalons/pseuds/HedwigsTalons</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>An experimental chemist encounters aims to win a research funding grant but ends up thrown into the world of International Rescue.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Virgil Tracy/Claire Ashwell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I need to give thanks to WillowDragonCat who helped me out of several plot holes along the way.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dealing with students was one of the perils of working in a university but today of all days she could have done without a confused first year accosting her after class.  With end of year exams approaching more and more of them were needing reassurance that they had grasped a concept correctly.  Some days she felt more like a counsellor than a tutor.</p>
<p>A quick glance at the clock showed she had just over an hour before she was due to deliver her presentation.  She still had plenty of time to cross campus and dump her books and files in her office but she would have liked longer to go through her notes before pitching her case to the panel.  The outcome this afternoon had the potential completely change the course of her career.</p>
<p>Crossing the quad in the bright sunshine of early summer she kept her head down and walked fast.  If she could just avoid eye contact with everyone she might make it through without being dragged into another conversation.</p>
<p>She rounded a corner at speed and collided with six foot of solid muscle coming in the opposite direction.</p>
<p>Her world became filled with pain and plaid.</p>
<p>The files smashed into her solar plexus, winding her and causing her to stagger backwards.  Books cascaded from her arms to land in an untidy heap on the floor.  She would have joined them but for a pair of strong arms with lightening reflexes grabbing her and steadying her backwards tumble.</p>
<p>She looked up into the face of the man who had been both her downfall and her rescuer.  She saw concerned brown eyes topped by a tuft of dark hair.  </p>
<p>“Are you ok…Dr Ashwell?”  A momentary pause as his eyes clocked her staff ID badge.</p>
<p>“I’m fine.  Sorry, I didn’t see you” she answered as she crouched down to scoop up her scattered belongings.</p>
<p>The man had barely flinched during their headlong collision although she was sure a block of books to the abdomen couldn’t have been a comfortable experience for him.  She expected him to continue his journey and was a little surprised when he crouched down beside her and helped reform the pile.</p>
<p>“A traditionalist, huh?” he queried.  “Most people just use the e-book copy now.”  </p>
<p>“I like to be able to add my own notes to the margins.”  She let out an audible groan as her tablet was unearthed from the pile.  The screen was smashed to pieces and one side of the device had popped open exposing the internal workings.  “They are also durable.  This is just not my day.  I can kiss goodbye to that grant” she muttered angrily.</p>
<p>“I was to blame too.  Please, let me ping you the funds to replace it.”</p>
<p>“It’s not the tablet that’s the problem.  It’s the flies that were on it that I need.”</p>
<p>A slight look of confusion crossed his brow.</p>
<p>“Don’t you have a back-up?”</p>
<p>“Of course I do but only at home.  I’m meant to be giving a presentation in…”, she glanced at her watch, “an hour to try and win a research grant.  Without my slides and data I may as well not bother.”</p>
<p>“Look, if it helps you can use mine.  Maybe download your work and I can stick it on a flash drive for you.”</p>
<p>He drew a sleek tablet out of a smart leather satchel.  The bag alone looked like it cost more than the rent on her apartment.  The device in his hands was even more sophisticated and clearly had holo-capabilities.  Maybe she would take him up on the offer to pay for the damage after all.</p>
<p>“It’s no use.  My home set-up isn’t connected to a network.  I got burned once by a research partner and keep things off-grid now.  It’s a decision I’m currently regretting.  Unless by some miracle I can get this thing working I’m screwed.”</p>
<p>She jabbed the power button and the mangled device flickered into life.  However, the display was shot to pieces and there no way of calling up the precious information contained within.</p>
<p>“Where there’s life, there’s hope.  Pass it here. I take it this is at least has some connectivity so you can use University network?”</p>
<p>She nodded.  The tablet was very much a work device for when she needed to be part of the system.  She had only transferred her presentation and a few data files on to it for ease that morning.  She didn’t share the stranger’s optimism that he could extract her work but shrugged and passed the tablet across anyway.   </p>
<p>They moved across to a nearby bench to get out of the path.  They and the books were causing quite an obstruction.  He pulled a phone out of his pocket and made a call.</p>
<p>“John, I’ve got a challenge for you.  I’ll pop you on loudspeaker; I’ve got company.  I need you to try and retrieve some files from a tablet that’s seen better days.”</p>
<p>“Must be bad if you’re calling me.  So what am I dealing with?”</p>
<p>“It’s got power but it’s completely smashed after I sent it flying.”</p>
<p>There was a snort over the line.  “And you guys say I’m the clumsy brother.  Turn on your tablet and I’ll run a tech proximity scan.”</p>
<p>The two devices were placed side by side on the bench.  The mysterious John was evidently able to operate things remotely as as the screen on the functioning tablet flickered through settings without any input from their end.  </p>
<p>“The closest tablet I’m picking up is registered to a Claire Ashwell.  Is that the one?”</p>
<p>Claire gave the affirmative.  Her eyes widened as a carbon copy of her lock screen, or what her lock screen would have looked like if it wasn’t currently a jumbled mess of cracks and lines, appeared on the neighbouring device.</p>
<p>“But my security settings….”</p>
<p>“Are not a problem” answered the disembodied voice.  </p>
<p>The lock screen had disappeared and been replaced with her desktop.  She felt a deep seated unease at how easily this stranger at the end of a phone had accessed her computer.</p>
<p>“If someone could pop a flash drive into one of the ports I’ll transfer across what you need.  Just tell me what to look for.”</p>
<p>The man beside her complied with the request for a flash drive.</p>
<p>“Uh, just the folder called ‘Tracy Prize’.  Everything else I can get from the university system once I’ve replaced my tablet.”</p>
<p>The man beside smiled but she missed it.  Her eyes were focussed on the screen which was currently showing that her precious data was being transferred to the flash drive.</p>
<p>“Speaking of replacing your tablet I’ve transferred some funds to your account too.  It should cover the cost of the tablet and the software that was on it.”</p>
<p>“How the hell did you do that?!”</p>
<p>“You’ve done internet shopping.  Everything leaves a trace.”</p>
<p>The infuriatingly calm voice was doing nothing to dispel her fears of hacking.  Her colleagues thought she was an oddball with her bizarre approach to digital security but the man on the other end of the phone had been able to access her tablet and then her bank account in seconds.  She was just glad that she hadn’t put any of her more sensitive research on her work tablet.</p>
<p>“Anyway, my work here is done.”</p>
<p>“Cheers John.” replied the man beside her and he disconnected the call.  He removed the flash drive and passed it to her.  “Perhaps I’ll see you around, Dr Ashwell.”</p>
<p>She found herself on the receiving end of a beaming smile.  She sat on the bench for a few moments longer and watched as he disappeared across the square and into a coffee shop.  </p>
<p>The whole encounter had only taken a few minutes and if it wasn’t for the mangled tablet and shiny new flash drive in her possession she could hardly have believed it had happened.  </p>
<p>She picked up her books and continued the journey to her office.  Once safely behind its closed door she pulled out her own phone and called up her banking app.  Sure enough her account showed that a healthy deposit had just been made; far more than her basic device was really worth.  She resisted the strong urge to delete everything off her phone.  Hackers gave her the creeps.  </p>
<p>Another glance at her watch.  45 minutes until show time.</p>
<p>She withdrew a sheath of papers from a folder.  Print outs of the slides she was about to present.  Time to get in the zone.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Tracy Prize, or more accurately The Jeff Tracy Grant For Scientific Research, was considered the holy grail of the research community.  It was one of the many altruistic endeavours set up by the billionaire philanthropist and had continued as part of his legacy.</p><p>Each year researchers had the opportunity to pitch for the grant with the successful applicant winning significant financial backing.  What set this research grant apart from others was that there was no stipulation on the direction of the research, no signing away of intellectual property rights, no being tied to a corporate agenda.  </p><p>It was this freedom to explore a theme unfettered by restrictions that had attracted Claire to apply.  </p><p>Claire knew that if she won over the panel she would be able to take a sabbatical from teaching and concentrate solely on her research.  It was a prospect that made her heart soar.  Teaching was very much a means to an end.  A way of paying her rent rather than a vocation.</p><p>Unfortunately, the very openness of the prize was one of the things that made it so hard to win.  The grant could be awarded to absolutely anyone for absolutely anything if their research theme captured the interest of the panel.  At least she had cleared the first hurdle by making it through the short listing.  Now just the opinion of three people stood between her and the funding.</p><p>The panel.  </p><p>At least she knew roughly who she would be facing. </p><p>The presentations stage of the competition was held on rotation between Harvard, Yale and the Denver School of Advanced Technology.  The alma mater of Jeff Tracy’s three eldest sons.  The panel was comprised of the Chancellor of the relevant institution, the previous year’s prize winner and the relevant Tracy son.</p><p>As any good researcher would she had tried to do her homework.  As a member of faculty at Denver it had been easy to find out about the interests of the Chancellor while the Yale winner from last year had made a few publications that showed where their interests lay.  She had been able to adjust the focus of her presentation to try and make it more appealing.</p><p>The enigma was the final panel member; Virgil Tracy.</p><p>After graduating from Denver the man had pretty much dropped off the radar.  She knew he had talent in the fields of mechanical and civil engineering; you don’t get to graduate top of your class without genuine aptitude, no matter how rich your father might be.  Post-graduation there was nothing.  She hadn’t even been able to find a recent photograph.</p><p>She sat in the holding room with two of the other applicants nervously waiting for her turn.  All three of them jumped to the alert as the administrator in charge of proceedings opened the door.</p><p>“Dr Ashwell, the panel are ready for you now.”</p><p>She took a deep breath to steady herself, exited the room and crossed the hallway to the meeting room opposite.</p><p>Stepping through the doorway she was faced by two men and one woman arranged behind a long desk.  </p><p>She didn’t need to read the name cards to know who was who.</p><p>The flush embarrassment, accentuated by her nervousness, crept up her body until she was sure her cheeks were glowing.</p><p>Red plaid shirt.  Brown eyes.  Tuft of dark hair.</p><p>At least she now knew what Virgil Tracy looked like.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“So how did it go in Denver?” asked Scott as Virgil entered the kitchen.</p><p>His question was ignored as his brother walked past in an unseeing daze and headed towards to coffee machine.  Only two things could get Virgil Tracy fully functioning in the morning; the klaxon and caffeine.  In the absence of an emergency to wake him up, coffee would be required before speech was attempted.</p><p>A large mug was filled with steaming black elixir. </p><p>Only once the first mouthful had been swallowed was Virgil able to register his brother’s presence.</p><p>“Fine” he mumbled.</p><p>Monosyllabic.  Scott knew there was no point attempting further conversation until at least half the cup had been consumed.  He bided his time, judging the levels of caffeine absorption from how focussed or otherwise those sleepy brown eyes were.</p><p>The mug was placed backed down on the counter with an audible sigh of contentment.</p><p>“So what are we funding this year?”</p><p>“Some medical technology.  The guy is working on creating a bio-coating that that should eliminate the risk of transplant rejection.  It will make the task of matching up donors and recipients a lot easier.  If he can translate his theories into reality no-one should die on the transplant register for want of a tissue match.”</p><p>“Good call.  Anything that can stop a family from going through the pain of losing a loved one.”</p><p>The brothers fell silent a moment as they contemplated their own losses.  Neither of them spotted Brains enter the kitchen on his way to grabbing some juice.</p><p>“Was that the w-w-winning research project?  You d-d-didn’t go for the synthetic fuel?”</p><p>Both brothers jumped slightly.  Brains could be as quiet as Kayo on occasion.</p><p>“How do you even know what the presentations were on, Brains?”</p><p>The scientist looked slightly sheepish.  </p><p>“John sent me a copy of the files he extracted from D-D-Dr Ashwell’s device.  He thought I might find them interesting.”</p><p>Scott raised an eyebrow leaving Virgil obliged to recount the incident in the quad and his and John’s operation to recover the presentation files.  Ever the observant commander Scott didn’t fail to notice Virgil pressing an involuntary hand to his stomach as he explained about the collision.  Evidently the speeding scientist had made quite an impact.  He made a mental note to quiz Virgil about any bruising later on.</p><p>“Anyway, her work was interesting but not likely to have the same impact as the bio-coating.  Sure her fuel is less polluting and has some environmental benefits than current products but in terms of overall benefit it just couldn’t compete.”</p><p>“D-d-didn’t she talk about the efficiencies?”</p><p>“A bit.  But she also said that commercially available engines didn’t really have the capabilities to make full use of the benefits her fuel could give.”</p><p>“I suppose.  B-b-but when you consider engines that are not commercially available….”</p><p>“Brains, what are you getting at?”</p><p>“Of c-c-course I’m only working from incomplete d-d-data.  B-b-but I’ve been modelling how our own craft would p-p-perform.  The results are quite interesting.”</p><p>Brains passed a tablet across to Virgil, report open on the screen.  The engineer’s eyes scanned quickly backwards and forwards across the screen, widening as the implications of what he was reading sank in.</p><p>“How accurate are there forecasts?”  The interest in Virgil’s voice was clearly evident.</p><p>“As I said, I could only go on the d-d-data Dr Ashwell put in the folder but I would say this is a c-c-conservative estimate.”</p><p>Scott’s interest was piqued.  He took the tablet out of Virgil’s hand and read through the report himself.  </p><p>The results were startling.</p><p>While the benefits of the synthetic fuel could not be fully utilised by a standard engine its effects on the Thunderbirds was significant.  If Dr Ashwell’s theories and Brains’ calculations proved to be correct then Thunderbird Two’s top speed could increase by 2000 kph and she would use 30% less fuel.  Her range and response times would be greatly enhanced.  The significance of this was not lost on the International Rescue operatives.</p><p>“How soon can we start production?”  Scott was blunt and to the point.  His excitement evident in his tone.</p><p>His excitement was soon quashed.</p><p>“We c-c-can’t.  The data John sent me was clearly a small extract of a much larger set.  Without the expertise of D-D-Dr Ashwell I wouldn’t like to attempt to synthesise the fuel.  One misplaced hydrogen b-b-bond and the whole mix would be too volatile.  We must also remember that this is still only in the early research stages.  D-D-Dr Ashwell is a b-b-brilliant experimental chemical engineer.  Her early work on m-m-modified inert compounds form the basis of our own fire suppressant foam.  I was most excited to see her name back in the research sphere.”</p><p>“What do you mean ‘back in the research sphere’?”</p><p>“D-D-Dr Ashwell was tipped to be one of the lead researchers in c-c-chemical engineering.  She led on some important p-p-projects and made some significant discoveries.  Then, t-t-two years ago, she stopped speaking at c-c-conferences and refused to take p-p-part in joint research teams.  She completely stepped b-b-back from the research community.”</p><p>“So what happened two years ago?”</p><p>“I d-d-don’t know.  She cut herself off, took up a b-b-basic teaching post and refused to do research either with or for others.  Evidently she is still experimenting on her own and your g-g-grant would have allowed her to keep that autonomy.”</p><p>“And you can’t synthesise this fuel without her?</p><p>“N-n-no.  From what I can t-t-tell the method is as experimental as the formula.”</p><p>Scott activated his wrist comm.</p><p>“Kayo, I need you to run a security check on a Dr Ashwell.  John will be able to give you her details as a starting point.”</p><p>He draped an arm around his shorter sibling.</p><p>“Now then Virg, I need you to try and recall everything you can about the mysterious Dr Ashwell.  As long as Kayo doesn’t unearth anything sinister you and I need to work out how to persuade the good doctor that she wants to play as part of a team again.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Claire sat at her desk.  The page in front of her was mockingly blank.  Her rejection from the Tracy Prize had been a bitter blow and now her research had ground to a halt.</p><p>The last exam papers had been marked.  The last undergrads had departed from campus for the summer.  She didn’t even have any PhD students to supervise this year.  She had declined to take any on in the hope she would get the research grant.  This should have been a prime opportunity to work on her fuel formula but she just couldn’t get the laboratory time.</p><p>In order to run her experiments she needed access to a specialised laboratory.  Denver had the facilities and her head of department was very accommodating where possible but she was bottom of the pecking order.  Registered projects took priority, those that brought funding to the university and enhanced its reputation.  Claire’s private project did neither.  The work space she needed was fully booked out for the next week.  It looked like she would be having a forced vacation.</p><p>The phone on her desk rang, shattering the silence.</p><p>Campus switchboard.</p><p>She picked up and agreed to accept the external call.</p><p>“Hello, Dr Ashwell speaking.”</p><p>“Dr Ashwell I’m so glad I m-m-managed to track you down. I’m Dr Hackenbacker.”</p><p>Claire racked her brains.  The name was familiar but she couldn’t quite place it.</p><p>“How can I help you Dr Hackenbacker?”</p><p>“I’m in D-D-Denver was hoping you would be available to meet up.  I am a great admirer of your work of m-m-modified inert molecules.  We spoke about them at the c-c-conference in T-T-Tokyo a few years ago.  I was m-m-most surprised to see you among the Jeff T-T-Tracy grant applicants.”</p><p>So that explained why the name was familiar.  She remembered the serious young man.  After her conference speech he had quizzed her at length about the molecules and possible practical applications.  She remembered him being very kind, one of the few that had taken her seriously.  She had only just completed her own PhD at the time and many of the established scientific community had found it hard to overlook her youth.  Normally she would reject an invitation out of the blue but she figured she had nothing else to do and brushing him off just felt rude.</p><p>“How long are you in Denver for, Dr Hackenbacker? I can check my diary.”</p><p>A diary she knew was frustratingly empty.</p><p>“I fly home tomorrow.  Do you have any t-t-time this afternoon?”</p><p>“Actually yes, I do.  If 2 o’clock suits I can meet you in the coffee shop in the quad.  Do you know the one?”</p><p>“Y-y-yes, I do.  And 2 o’clock is p-p-perfect.  I look forward to seeing you again D-D-Dr Ashwell.”<br/>The call disconnected.</p><p>Claire sat back and doodled in her notebook. Something felt…odd.  She replayed the brief conversation in her mind, teasing out the snags.  There is was. The Tracy Prize.  Even most of her colleagues weren’t aware of her private research.  How had Dr Hackenbacker known she had applied?  At least she knew one thing she would be asking over coffee.</p><p>Xoxoxox</p><p>Kayo’s background checks into Dr Ashwell had left her frustrated.  She had traced the academic’s timeline easily enough to begin with.  Undergrad studies, post-grad studies, a PhD; so far, so traditional.  Research publications and conference appearances had followed.  It all matched with Brains’ recollection of a scientist making her mark in the world.  </p><p>The career trajectory changed abruptly two years ago. Dr Ashwell final contribution to science was as part of a collaborative research team looking at mineral purification. After that, nothing until she popped up a few months later within the chemistry faculty in Denver. </p><p>Kayo had be able to track Dr Ashwell’s physical movement through a series of apartment rental agreements and financial transactions but nothing about what she had actually been doing in the time between the mineral project and Denver.  </p><p>Once at Denver Claire Ashwell seemed to have settled into the quiet life of a typical university lecturer.    There was nothing even to suggest she had been conducting any sort of research at all.  Nothing except her surprise application for the Tracy Prize.</p><p>Kayo didn’t like finding nothing.  Admittedly she also hadn’t found any evidence of anything that would put International Rescue in jeopardy but her report to Scott had advised caution.<br/>The Commander disagreed.</p><p>The resulting argument had nearly come to blows until an uneasy compromise had been reached.  Kayo agreed to Dr Ashwell being contacted as long as the Tracy’s involvement with International Rescue was kept secret.  The existence of the Thunderbirds might be known but very few knew who their pilots were or where the mighty craft were based.</p><p>Virgil had been tasked with contacting Dr Ashwell but his attempts had not gone to plan.  His email requesting further discussions of her work had been rejected.  Claire Ashwell had responded politely, but firmly, that she did not work with either corporations or private individuals.  A follow up email had been deleted without a response.</p><p>Scott had grown increasingly frustrated.  If this fuel could be developed, the time saved in getting the Thunderbirds to the rescue zone could save countless lives.  Short of kidnapping her and dragging her off to the island it looked like International Rescue was running out of options.</p><p>His final hope was riding on Brains being able to persuade her, one scientist to another, to at least consider sharing her ideas. Which is how Dr Hiram K. Hackenbacker found himself inside a non-descript coffee shop nervously waiting for Claire to appear.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Kayo sat at a nearby table, ostensibly reading a magazine but instead following the meeting between the two scientists intently.  She had to hand it to Brains.  Although not comfortable with field work he was managing remarkably well.  </p><p>It had been decided beforehand that Brains would not reveal his involvement with the Tracys.  Claire’s rejection of their previous attempts to make contact had shown she was not one to be swayed by the Tracy name; quite the opposite in fact.  Through the careful use of half-truths and omission Claire was under the impression that Brains worked in a small research facility and that his knowledge of her recent work was as a member of the short-listing committee for the Tracy Prize.  It was a plausible cover story and thankfully one that she was not probing too deeply.</p><p>The pair chatting over coffee kept the conversation neutral and on safe topics.  They discussed recent well publicised developments in the fields of chemistry, physics and engineering.  Brains soon found he lost his nervousness and was enjoying the chance to discuss his favourite subjects in depth.</p><p>His nervousness returned when a slight nod from Kayo indicated it was time to make his move.</p><p>“So Claire, seeing as you d-d-didn’t get the Jeff T-T-Tracy grant will you be applying for other funding?  I-I-It looked like an interesting project.”</p><p>“No.  Everything else seems to come with caveats.  It will be hard work and it will take longer but I’ll continue the research in private around my lecturing until I’m ready to publish under my own terms.  The hard part is getting access to the labs”</p><p>Here was the opener Brains had been hoping for.  His chance to entice her to the island.</p><p>“Aren’t the f-f-faculty supportive?”</p><p>“As much as they can be but without the legitimacy of funding I often can’t get a lab slot.  Trust me, I’d be in there now if they weren’t fully booked out.”</p><p>“Where I work is small but w-w-well equipped.  You would be m-m-more than welcome to come and use the facilities and there are g-g-guest rooms on site you can stay in.  C-c-call it my way of trying to make up for you m-m-missing out on the main prize.”</p><p>Claire swirled the last of her coffee around the cup as though trying to divine the right thing to do from the patterns in the frothy dregs.  Brains was quite glad her focus was elsewhere because he was sure his nervousness was etched on his face like a book.</p><p>On the one hand she had always said she would work alone but on the other she couldn’t work at all without the right facilities.  She had nothing keeping her in Denver and the change of scene might do her good.  If she could get some lab time it would be a working holiday and if the facilities weren’t suitable she would treat it as a normal holiday and explore the local area.</p><p>To her own surprise as much as Brains’ and Kayo’s she found herself agreeing to the visit.  Brains assured her that the flights would not be a problem; they would be on a private supply flight to the facility and she would be able to return to Denver on the next supply run scheduled in about a week. </p><p>The pair parted with Claire being instructed to be ready to be collected from her apartment in the morning and to pack for tropical weather.</p><p>After a quick detour to her office to alert the faculty to her upcoming absence Claire headed home.  </p><p>In anticipation of this being a working holiday the first thing to pack was her work set up.  While her research methods were cutting edge her approach to recording the results was the complete opposite.  It was the reason why Kayo had been unable to find a digital trail of her research.  </p><p>In order to maintain her privacy Claire recorded all her results in physical notebooks.  Each night, on returning from the labs she would scan in the pages and save them to her computer, adding them to the research files.  The notebooks were then locked in a fireproof box as a back up record.  The computer itself was a standalone unit.  She had even gone to the trouble of physically removing all wireless cards and drivers.  She packed the computer, scanner and a couple of notebooks into a reinforced flight case.  In a world of holo-computers and 24 hours connectivity her methods were considered not just archaic, but perhaps a little unhinged.  For her it was the only way she felt that her privacy was truly secure from hacking and intellectual espionage.</p><p>With the work side of packing completed she threw a few clothes and her lab coat into a separate bag and settled down for an early night.</p><p>The following morning Brains collected Claire as arranged and introduced her to Kayo.  Claire hoped she wouldn’t have much to do with the quiet and serious young woman.  Animosity radiated off her and the intense green eyes appraised Claire in a way that left her feeling like her soul had been stripped bare.  It was a relief when Kayo shut herself on the cockpit leaving Claire and Brains alone in the passenger compartment of the jet.  </p><p>The flight was smooth and uneventful.  Kayo activated the intercom for the first and only time of the journey to instruct them to fasten seatbelts for landing.  Claire looked out of the window and was surprised to see they were still flying over ocean.   The only visible landmass, a tiny island in the vast expanse of water, was evidently their destination.  She hoped the laboratories were up to scratch because sightseeing was not going to take long.  There weren’t even that many buildings.  The whole place looked more like an upmarket holiday resort than a scientific research facility.</p><p>The plane touched down on a tiny runway and Kayo emerged from the cockpit.  She handed Claire a small watch-like device.</p><p>“You’re to wear this at all times.”  The instruction was blunt.  The tone was that of someone used to being obeyed.</p><p>“What is it?” </p><p>“It’s a radio.  If you are anything like Brains you’ll lose track of time.  We’ve found this is the easiest way to remind people when meals are ready.  Saves having to send someone to look for you”</p><p>Claire realised that her travelling companions were wearing similar devices.  She fastened the strap, unaware that the device also contained a tracker.  It was one of the many security protocols Kayo had insisted on when Scott had announced his desire to bring Claire to the island.  Others included initiating Operation Cover-Up and, if possible, ensuring Claire was never left alone in case she wandered in to any of the more sensitive areas.</p><p>“Brains?”</p><p>“That would be m-m-me.  No-one here c-c-calls me Hiram.”  Brains was quite glad to ditch the pseudonym and reclaim his more habitual moniker.  It would save a lot of confusion.</p><p>The exited the plane and Claire breathed a deep lungful of sea air.  It felt good to be out of the city.</p><p>A young man with blonde hair and a questionable taste in shirts hurried forwards to greet them.</p><p>“Hi, I’m Gordon” he said with a grin.  “I’ve been given unloading duty, worse luck.  You’ll find everyone else in the lounge.  They’re keen to meet you.  As you can probably guess we don’t get many visitors here.  You can leave your bags behind, I’ll make sure they get taken to your rooms.”</p><p>Gordon disappeared into the cargo area of the plane where he and Kayo started stacking boxes ready for transportation to the various store rooms and hangers around the island.  Brains and Claire were left to make their own way up the house.</p><p>“Gordon is out resident m-m-marine expert” Brains supplied.  “We are a small t-t-team so everyone helps out when needed.  He m-m-must have picked the short straw.  We ought head up, we d-d-don’t want to keep everyone waiting.”</p><p>As they walked along a meandering path by the shore Claire was suddenly daunted by the prospect of meeting the entire island population in one go.  She tried to quiz Brains about who else was on the island.</p><p>“Beyond m-m-myself, Kayo and Gordon there are only four others here p-p-peramently.  It’s p-p-probably best if I let them introduce themselves.”  This was a topic Brains was keen to avoid and he quickly lapsed into silence.</p><p>They entered one of the few buildings and Claire was struck by the expense of the place.  This was evidently a residential area.  There was no evidence of offices or workspaces.  No clinical corridors.  She felt like she was intruding in a private home.  A private home for someone very wealthy.  It made her feel uneasy.</p><p>The hallway they were in opened out into a large lounge area dominated by a circular area of seating sunk into the floor.  An unusual mix of people occupied the seats.  One teenager, one older lady and a young man.</p><p>The man unfolded himself from the seats as she entered.  He was tall and athletic with startling blue eyes.  He quickly crossed the floor to greet her.</p><p>“Dr Ashwell, I’m so pleased you came.  I’m Scott.”</p><p>Unfortunately for Scott his offered hand was ignored.  Claire was staring straight past him to the far side of the room where a final figure was perched on a piano stool.  Her feelings of unease evaporated and were replaced with full-on defensive mode.  Her attitude became glacial.</p><p>“Mr Tracy, I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Scott took it upon himself to give Claire a tour of the facilities.  The dislike she radiated towards Virgil made it clear that the two ought to be kept separate.  Brains had also received a killer glare for his part in the deception and was currently hiding away, using the excuse that he needed to check over the materials brought in on the supply run.</p><p>Claire followed Scott around the complex mutely.  She soon began to understand why very little had been visible from the air.  The majority of the site was located underground.  The buttons in the elevators indicated several subterranean levels.  Most required biometric authentication to use and were clearly out of bounds to her.  The level of security seemed at odds with the picture Scott was trying to paint of a private family home where they could escape the pressures of Tracy Industries while still indulging in their private passions.</p><p>The whole set-up seemed bizarre.  She couldn’t understand why four brothers and an honorary sister lived on a remote island with their grandmother and Brains.  The absence of the fifth brother, John, was also puzzling.  She knew he was highly accomplished with technology and Claire couldn’t understand why he alone had decided to live elsewhere.  He clearly had the skills to work remotely.  It didn’t fit with the close knit family unit Scott was describing.</p><p>The facilities and laboratories she was shown were every scientists’ dream.  Brains had clearly understated the level of technology at his disposal.  This was no hobby set up but Scott had made it clear that the work conducted on-site was independent of their corporate enterprises.  It was another element of the conundrum that was the Tracy family, minus John, and their island paradise home.</p><p>Scott was doing his best to maintain the flow of conversation but it was difficult when the conversation was effectively a monologue from him punctuated by the occasional monosyllabic answer to a direct question.  The Tracy charm was turned up to maximum and the dimples were fully deployed but the woman keeping step at his side seemed impervious to his attempts at friendship.  He knew though that unless Claire could be brought on side they would stand no chance of sharing her research.</p><p>He was beginning to think that the whole attempt was futile and misguided.  Perhaps Kayo was right and she was already working for someone else; the thought of who that someone might be made his blood run cold.  He would never forgive himself if he had put his family in danger in the pursuit of a faster response time.  If that was the case then the safest thing would be to get her off the island and take her home.  </p><p>The relief in Claire’s voice when he told her he would arrange a flight home for the next day was immediate.   The tension she was carrying in her body released and she furnished him with a genuine smile of gratitude.  </p><p>xoxoxox</p><p>That evening Claire allowed herself to relax and enjoy the hospitality of the Tracy family.  If you could overlook the fact that they had lured her to the island under false pretences then they were really quite nice.  Kayo was still keeping her under close scrutiny but was refraining from outright hostility.  Claire suspected that either Scott or Mrs Tracy had had words.</p><p>As they retreated to the lounge after dinner she took the opportunity to observe their interactions.  Scott was clearly head of the family.  The way he questioned Alan on his school work and then sent him off to bed was more paternal than fraternal.  Claire was uncomfortably reminded of her research into Jeff Tracy and the revelation that this family had been without parents for many years.</p><p>Looking around she realised that Virgil was missing.  She spied him out on the balcony, leaning on the rail.  He was evidently still keeping out of her way.  Scott had made it clear during the tour that Virgil had only contacted her on his instruction.  She felt ashamed at her over reaction to a couple of emails.  Wanting to make amends before heading home she wandered out and joined him in his contemplation of the moonlit ocean.</p><p>“I’m sorry.”  It wasn’t much but it was a start.  </p><p>Whatever Virgil had been expecting it wasn’t this.  He sensed that she had more to say though and gave her the space and time to continue.</p><p>“I’ve not been particularly fair to you.  I let my own prejudices get the better of me and I shouldn’t have.  I’ve not even properly thanked you for your help in the quad that day.  You didn’t have to help me and you certainly didn’t have to pay for the damage.  If you had just walked on I would have been stuck with a busted tablet and no presentation.”</p><p>He shrugged.  </p><p>“It’s John you should be thanking.  There wasn’t much I could do.”</p><p>“Please can you pass my thanks on to him too.”  The mention of absent brother still gave her the creeps.  Yes, his skills had saved the day but they were responsible for a large part of her mistrust.</p><p>The pair returned to the lounge, the uneasy tension lifted.</p><p>xoxoxox</p><p>Waking up in near total darkness Claire was disorientated.  The room was unfamiliar and it took her a moment to realise she was in one of the Tracy’s guest suites.</p><p>She tapped the clock on the unit beside the bed, illuminating the screen. </p><p>3 am.</p><p>She wondered what had woken her.  She thought she could hear running footsteps retreating into the distance but that didn’t make sense at this time of night.  It must have just been the regular noises of an unfamiliar house.  </p><p>Silence returned.</p><p>She settled back down and was soon asleep again.</p><p>She didn’t hear the hurried commands issued from the lounge at the other end of the building.  Didn’t hear the activation of the concealed launch systems.  Didn’t hear the rumble of Thunderbird 2 taking off, the noise deadened by her soundproofed windows.  </p><p>She didn’t realise anything had changed until she entered the kitchen in search of breakfast the next morning.  The atmosphere throughout the house was charged and tense.  Virgil and Gordon were absent, apparently called away on urgent business.</p><p>It was Kayo that broke the news.  With two residents missing, and Scott shut away in an office deal with things from home, they couldn’t spare a pilot.  She would be stuck on the island until the missing siblings returned, whenever that might be.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>An air of preoccupation hung over the Tracy family.  Brains had disappeared into one of the many areas off-limits to Claire.  Scott was locked away in an office, occasionally appearing to grab a drink before hurrying back, the tension evident in his posture.  Grandma Tracy and Alan had thrown themselves into displacement activities.</p><p>Only Kayo was an ever-present feature.</p><p>Wherever Claire went the other woman was sure to follow.  Lounge, poolside, cinema room; it didn’t matter where Claire tried to find some solitude Kayo would find her.  It was like being tailed by a malevolent minder.  One that was determined to assert her dominance.  </p><p>In an effort to shake off the shake off her self-appointed guard Claire headed to the kitchen.  Grandma Tracy was elbow deep in a mixing bowl.  For some reason the sight of the matriarch surrounded by flour and baking trays was enough to make Kayo retreat and melt back into the shadows.</p><p>When the first charred discs were offered to her under the guise of cookies Claire could understand why everyone why everyone was giving the kitchen a wide berth.  However, she figured that ingesting charcoal was a small price to pay to rid herself of Kayo’s calculating stare.  </p><p>Morning transitioned to afternoon and still Virgil and Gordon did not return.  It was becoming evident that Claire would be forced to spend a second night on the island.</p><p>As the shadows began to lengthen Claire felt her wrist comm vibrate and an incomprehensible pattern of lights played across its face.  Grandma Tracy’s device mirrored the signal.  Her shoulders relaxed and she stopped weighing out the ingredients for a third batch of inedible baking.  </p><p>“The boys are nearly home.  Could you be a dear and help me fetch something from the stores for dinner.”</p><p>Grandma Tracy still hadn’t quite worked out what they would be fetching but she knew she needed to move Claire into one of underground areas.  The sight of Thunderbird Two returning home would be clearly visible through the panoramic windows in just a few minutes.</p><p>They headed out of the kitchen, Claire trailing behind Grandma Tracy as she took the elevator down a level and let the way into a maze of utilitarian corridors at odds with the luxury of the residential areas. </p><p>As they entered one of the numerous store rooms a low growl rumbled through the complex.  More felt than heard, the vibration caused the floor to tremble slightly.  Claire worried that the clearly volcanic island was showing signs of activity but her companion was unfazed.  The vibrations stopped as abruptly as they had started.</p><p>They dug about in the food for several minutes.  Selections were made and discarded.  Only when Grandma Tracy felt sure that all danger of discovery had passed did she quit stalling for time and fill a box with the final choices for dinner.</p><p>Claire offered to carry the box back to the kitchen.  Grandma Tracy gratefully let her; her boys had voracious appetites and the box was now very full.</p><p>They made their way back down the corridor.  Claire was grateful for her guide, she wasn’t convinced she would have successfully navigated the bland stretches of blank walls, uniform doors and unmarked intersections without help.</p><p>It was at one of these intersections that Claire nearly collided with Virgil and Gordon as they arrived from a side corridor.</p><p>“We really must stop meeting like this.”  The baritone voice joked.</p><p>Claire took in the dishevelled look of the brothers, a stark contrast to the well-groomed man she had first collided with.  </p><p>They were dressed in just shorts and undershirts.  Brick dust streaked their hair and exhaustion lined their faces.  A bandage was tightly wound around Virgil’s thigh, an ugly red stain marring its crisp, white surface.</p><p>“C’mon Virg, keep moving.  We need to get cleaned up then you and I have a date with the suture kit.”</p><p>Gordon steered his older brother around them and led him away down another faceless corridor.  Their bare feet making no noise as they padded away. </p><p>“Don’t take too long boys.  Dinner is in an hour” Grandma Tracy called out over her shoulder.  She seemed completely unperturbed by their half-dressed appearance and obvious injuries.</p><p>xoxoxox</p><p>As they re-entered the kitchen Claire found her load suddenly lightened as Scott took the box from her arms.  The ever-present Kayo glared at her from a corner.  </p><p>“Gordon and Virgil landed safely” he announced cheerily.</p><p>“We know.  We’ve seen them.”  Grandma Tracy’s tone was flat.</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“We bumped in to them coming out of the laundry.”</p><p>“Oh.”  At least if they were exiting the laundry they should have got rid of their uniforms he mused, that one would have been difficult to explain away.</p><p>“Landed safely?!” Claire exclaimed.  “They looked like they had been in a war zone!  Virgil’s leg is sliced open and none of you seem concerned.  What is wrong with you people?”</p><p>She hadn’t seen her move but Claire suddenly found herself nose to nose with Kayo.  The taller woman was making full use of her extra inches.  The display of aggression was clear.</p><p>“Of course we care.  Don’t you dare judge us.”</p><p>“Stand down, Kayo.”  Scott’s order was firm.  Kayo grudgingly took half a step backwards.</p><p>Claire turned her attention on Scott.  “Just who are you anyway?  You run this place like some sort of military leader.  I’m surprised your family put up with it.”</p><p>As soon as the words were out of her mouth she knew she had overstepped the mark.  She was still a guest in his house but Kayo riled her.  Their personalities flared and clashed.  Before she knew it Kayo was back in her personal space.</p><p>“I could ask you the same question.  Who are you with all your secrets?  Who are you working for?”</p><p>The others in the room looked on powerlessly as the challenge was issued.  Kayo was deliberately inflammatory and Claire’s temper ignited in response.</p><p>“I have no secrets and I’ve made it perfectly clear I don’t work for, or with, anyone!”</p><p>“So why did you disappear from research two years ago.  Who made you a better offer?”</p><p>“Checking up on me, huh?  The only place I disappeared to was the bottom of an ice cream carton.”</p><p>Kayo snorted.  “I don’t buy it.  Why would you give it all up then take on a job you clearly hate.”</p><p>“I lecture because my savings ran out.  Some of us don’t have trust funds to fall back on.”  It was a low blow but her anger was seething.  “If you’re so desperate to know what happened I’ll tell you.  I was working on a joint project on mineral refinement although you evidently know that already.  Turns out the professor leading it was a fraud.  He hadn’t had an original idea in years.  He had just been trading off his reputation and claiming the work of more junior team members as his own.  No-one could challenge him, he could kill your career in an instant.  He claimed all the credit for my work and I was meant to be happy with the scrap of recognition from being associated with him.”</p><p>“So you quit just because some old guy passed off your homework as his own?”</p><p>“No.  I quit because of ChemCorp.  I doubt you remember it.  It turns out Professor Oulton wasn’t just using the work of others to maintain his position.  He was also selling the research to bolster his retirement fund.  The result was ChemCorp.  The method was still experimental and should never have been scaled up.  The processing plant went critical.  A waste gasses tank exploded, killing seventeen people.  Seventeen families were ripped apart because of something I created.  I could never let that happen again.  To know that something I designed could cause so much harm in the wrong hands.</p><p>“I cut myself off and took and safe and easy job.  But then the itch of an idea hit me again and I couldn’t shake it off.  I started up my research but made a vow that my work would go nowhere before I was ready.  Before I could make sure all the fail-safes were in place and no-one could get hurt.  If I release my work it will be on my terms.  I can’t have another business putting profits over people.  I can’t face being responsible for more deaths so Tracy Industries can back off, I’m not for sale.”</p><p>The wave of emotion Claire had been riding left her with a crash.  Her shoulders drooped and she slumped against the counter top.  It had been cathartic to tell her story.  The story that had been denied to her, and that Kayo had unable to divine, since Professor Oulton had relegated her role to a footnote in his publication.</p><p>Silence settled over the kitchen.</p><p>“You’re wrong.”  Scott’s voice was low, little more than a whisper.</p><p>She looked up into clear blue eyes that mirrored the emotion in her own.</p><p>“Of course we remember ChemCorp.  We remember everyone we couldn’t save.  Every death leaves its mark.  We arrived too late.  Maybe if we had got there faster we could have stabilised the plant or helped with the evacuation.  That’s why we need your fuel formula.  I think it’s time to show you the rest of the island.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Scott led the way to one of the elevators.  Kayo had made as if to follow them but to Claire’s eternal gratitude Grandma Tracy stopped her.</p><p>Scott hesitated, his hand poised over the biometric scanner.  He turned to Claire, his piercing eyes appraising her with an intensity that made her shiver despite the tropical heat.</p><p>“I’m taking a risk showing you this but I need you to trust us.  I need to show you that this isn’t about profits or adding another line to our portfolio.  My brothers and I….well, it’s probably easier if I show you.”</p><p>He took a deep breath, pressed his palm against the scanner, then selected the lowest level of the complex.  A level that had previously been out of bounds to her.</p><p>The ride downward only took a few seconds but Claire could feel her apprehension building with every moment that passed.</p><p>The doors opened.  Claire and Scott stepped out into the cavernous space.</p><p>To begin with Claire couldn’t work out what she was being shown.  The space and it’s contents were so huge it was difficult to comprehend.  She was like a small child having her first up-close encounter with a giraffe but not understanding what it was because she couldn’t see beyond it’s knees.  And so it took her several seconds for her brain to catch up with the information her eyes were sending.</p><p>They were stood in at the base of Thunderbird One.  The mighty rocket plane towered above them, the red nose cone shrouded in shadow.  </p><p>“Is that…?”</p><p>Her voice trailed away in awe.  She had occasionally heard the Thunderbirds mentioned on news reports but she had never imagined she would see one in real life.  International Rescue was notoriously secretive and generally if you got close to a Thunderbird it meant your life was in serious danger.</p><p>“Yup.  I sometimes wonder if putting the name on the side was a bit of a giveaway.” </p><p>Claire looked around at Scott but he was staring up at the rocket plane, his face deadly serious.</p><p>“Scott Tracy, are you mocking me?”</p><p>His eyes met hers and his face cracked into a grin.  “You must admit that was a pretty daft question.”</p><p>“So you’re part of International Rescue?”</p><p>“Not just part of it.  Me and my family are International Rescue.  We have a few global agents too, we can’t do this completely alone, but the six of us pilot the Thunderbirds.”</p><p>“Six of you?  Even Alan?  He’s just a kid!”</p><p>“Yes, even Alan.  Although I doubt he’d appreciate being called just a kid”.</p><p>“Too damn right I wouldn’t appreciate it!”</p><p>Neither of them had noticed the arrival of Alan.</p><p>“Language, Alan!”  Scott admonished.  He received an eye roll in return.</p><p>“How did you know where we were?”</p><p>Another eye roll.  “Duh, your trackers.  John alerted us as soon as he picked up Claire’s signal in the hangers.  I came to see if you needed a hand.”</p><p>“<em>My tracker,/em&gt;!” Claire was suddenly on the defensive again.  “Have you been spying on me?”</em></p><p>
  <em>“Yeah, uh, to be fair though we all have them.”  Scott waved his arm, flashing the wrist comm.  “They really are useful for calling people for dinner.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“And where is John anyway?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Up in Five.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The confusion on Claire’s face was plain to see.  Scott backtracked to fill in the blanks.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Thunderbird Five.  It’s our communications satellite.  John comes down every so often and we have each been known to take our turn on rotation if we think he needs a longer break but generally he is happy to stay up in space.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Why are you telling me this?  Kayo clearly thinks you shouldn’t.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Kayo is our security specialist.  Being suspicious is part of the job for her although I must admit she seems to have taken quite a strong dislike to you.  She found your background checks...challenging.  When she drew a blank she filled in the gaps with a worst case scenario.  I’ll speak to her.  Get her to back off a bit.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I guess background checks go with the territory.  A bit like the trackers.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Scott nodded.  “It’s nothing personal.  And to answer your original question, I’m telling you so you can understand we aren’t after your fuel formula because we want to profit from it.  Brains’ believes your fuel could improve the performance of our ‘birds.  Every second saved counts when we are called out and the bottom line is if we can get to the rescue faster we have a better chance of saving lives.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You already seem to know a lot about my work.”  There was a slight note of accusation in the statement.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Scott realised it was time to come clean.  Total honesty would be needed if he had any chance of pulling this off.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“When John retrieved your files from your tablet he also kept a copy.  It means he had access to your data files as well as the presentation slides you showed Virgil and the grant panel.”  He held up his hands in supplication as he received a glare.  “I’m sorry.  It was wrong.  But he could see the potential in your work.  Brains agreed.  What we would like is for you to work with us here.  You would have our resources at your disposal and the freedom to work on it uninterrupted.  As you can imagine, we are keen to see this fuel developed as quickly as possible.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Scott waited expectantly.  The silence between them was tense.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Until Alan broke the silence, summing it up in a way that only the irreverent teenager could.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“So how about it Claire.  Are you going to help us save the world?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I’ll consider it.”  But her tone was light a teasing.  Scott suspected it was payback for him teasing her earlier about the writing on Thunderbird One.  “Come on or we will be late for dinner.  I’m sure you wouldn’t want to let your grandmother’s cooking spoil.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Alan shuddered.  “Trust me.  Grandma’s cooking will have spoiled whether we are on time for dinner or not.”</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The island residents, minus Kayo, were assembled around the dining table.   </p><p>Virgil and Gordon were now both fully dressed and clean.  The brick dust was gone, exposing minor scratches and bruising but no other serious injuries.  Virgil had opted for loose shorts in place of his habitual jeans in deference to his freshly bandaged leg but the wound did not seem to be bothering him too much.  They still looked tired out but that was to be expected.  Scott too was starting to show signs of weariness after his long day.</p><p>“We can leave debrief until tomorrow morning.  You two will be having an early night.  No arguments.”</p><p>“Uh, Scott, should we be talking about this now?”  Gordon threw a pointed look in the direction of Claire.</p><p>“She knows who we are now and it’s blinding obvious you two got called out today.  Operation Cover-Up is over.”</p><p>“So does this mean you’re on board?”  Virgil asked Claire, his excitement evident despite his exhaustion.</p><p>An air of expectation filled the room.  All eyes turned to Claire.</p><p>“I’m considering it.  I still need to work a few things out.  You all seem to be pinning a lot of hopes on my idea but I don’t even know if I can deliver the goods.”</p><p>Well it was better than an outright refusal.  Letting Claire in on their secret was a big security risk. Scott just hoped that his gamble of revealing the Thunderbirds hadn’t been in vain.  Kayo had certainly made it clear she disapproved.  </p><p>Scott eyed the conspicuously empty place.</p><p>“Has anyone seen Kayo lately?  She and I need to have a conversation”</p><p>There was a murmur to the negative around the table.</p><p>Grandma Tracy spoke up.  “Leave her be.  She and I have already had a few words when you took Claire down to the hangers.”</p><p>“What did you say, Grandma?”  The matriarch had been tight lipped on her opinions regarding Claire and Scott was unsure whether she allied herself with him of Kayo.</p><p>“I just reminded her that sometimes people keep secrets for entirely honourable reasons.  She had a chat to John after that then took off somewhere.  She’ll be back in her own time.”</p><p>The family shared meaningful glances across the table.  There had been a time when Kayo had kept her own secrets in order to protect her adoptive family.</p><p>“Can’t you just locate her from her tracker?”  Claire asked.</p><p>“Are you kidding?” Alan laughed.  “If Kayo doesn’t want to be found you don’t stand a chance, especially if she has got John involved.”   </p><p>The meal was over and the family were just considering moving through to the lounge when Kayo stalked into the room.  She deposited a large insulated cool-bag and some spoons on the table.  </p><p>Scott stiffened.  The last time Claire and Kayo had been in the same room, just a couple of hours earlier, he had thought he was going to have to physically restrain the security expert.  His brothers picked up on the tension and held their collective breaths.  Even those that hadn’t witnessed the earlier spat could tell that something serious had gone on between the two women.  The temperature in the room seemed to plummet.</p><p>Kayo started unpacking tubs.  Tendrils of evaporation swirled around the brightly coloured packages.  Her eyes never left Claire’s as she slid a carton of rocky road down the table.  A spoon quickly followed it.</p><p>“What’s this?”  Claire eyed the tub suspiciously.</p><p>“Peace offering.”</p><p>“How did you know this was my favourite flavour?”</p><p>“Would you believe me if I said it was a lucky guess?”</p><p>“No”</p><p>“I got John to analyse your purchasing history.”</p><p>“You two really need to learn the concept of privacy”</p><p>Kayo just shrugged.  “It’s my job to know things.  You know I’m still going to be checking up on your story about the professor, don’t you?”</p><p>“I would expect nothing less.  Let me give you a helping hand.  Journal of Applied Chemistry, volume 86, issue 4.  Last I heard Professor Oulton was working at University of California.  Go knock yourself out.”</p><p>The exchange was icy but polite.  A game of verbal chess as each participant assessed the other, testing how much ground to give.  Strengths were shown and tactical sacrifices were made.   </p><p>Claire’s eyes remained locked with Kayo’s as she slowly peeled the lid off her ice cream.  It looked like an uneasy truce had been reached.  Peace offering accepted.</p><p>As Claire picked up the spoon it was as though a spell had been broken.  The youngest Tracys tried to attack the pile of ice cream cartons in search of their favourite flavours.  Kayo swatted them back.</p><p>A tub of cherry swirl was launched at Virgil’s head with deadly accuracy.  Lemon sorbet followed an equally lethal trajectory towards Scott.  Both were caught with lightening reflexes.  Grandma Tracy’s and Brains’ tubs were delivered in a more sedate manner.  Chocolate fudge was destined for Alan but was quickly swiped by Gordon who licked the surface to stake his claim, gloating over his stolen prize.  A scuffle broke out between the two youngest brothers.  It only ended when Kayo cuffed Gordon around the back of the head while simultaneously unearthing a second tub of chocolate fudge from the bag for Alan.  </p><p>“You’re the best, Kayo. John is going to be so jealous he missed out” Alan exclaimed as he twisted around in his seat, wrapping himself in a bear hug around her middle.</p><p>Kayo smiled.  It was the first time Claire has seen the expression on her face.  The loyalty to her family was clear to see.</p><p>Kayo settled down with the final tub.  Evidently mint choc chip was her preferred choice.  Claire filed the memory away for future reference.</p><p>When all the tubs had been emptied and the spoons placed in the dishwasher the family, plus Claire, retreated to the lounge.  Scott and Kayo bringing up the rear.</p><p>“Did you seriously take a trip to the mainland just for ice cream?” Scott kept his voice low.</p><p>“Don’t sound so surprised.  I can play nice.”</p><p>“I don’t want you to just <em>play</em> nice, I want you to <em>be</em> nice.  Claire could be a valuable addition to the team.  By all means follow up on your security checks but please don’t go scaring her off just because the pair of you have started off on the wrong foot.”</p><p>“Fine, I’ll behave.”  Kayo rolled her eyes in a way that would have made Alan proud.</p><p>As Claire entered the lounge she was instantly drawn to the pictures on the wall.  Gone were the casual portraits.  Instead the images in the frames depicted the siblings in full uniform.  They made quite an impressive sight.  She wandered over to take a closer look.</p><p>The frames were digital, allowing the images to be changed at will, but pictures themselves were evidently taken from real paintings.  She could see the delicate brush strokes still clearly visible on the high quality screens.  Each painting has a small signature scrawled in the corner;  V. Tracy.</p><p>“Good, aren’t they.”  Scott had appeared silently by her side, making her jump.  “Virgil painted them for each of us to mark our first day on operational duty.”</p><p>Claire looked around at the plaid clad figure who was perched back on the piano stool, mirroring how he had been when she had first arrived on the island just yesterday.  Was it really only yesterday?  It felt so much longer.  So many secrets had been spilled.  </p><p>Before, she had stiffened at the sight of him, unable to overcome her embarrassment at their first encounter.  Instead of thanking him for salvaging her work she had resented the intrusion he and John had made into her digital records although she still had distinctly uncharitable feelings towards John on that score.  His polite attempts to contact her later on had been taken as a personal attack and viewed as a threat to her independence and integrity.</p><p>Now she was seeing him in a new light.  Here was a man who, along with his brothers, would selflessly head into danger to help others.  Who would risk his life for complete strangers with no though of personal reward.  And evidently a man who had considerable skill with a paint brush.</p><p>“Come on” said Scott, breaking into her quiet contemplation.  “I think it’s time to introduce you to the final member of the family.  Let’s give John a call.”</p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>John.</p><p>That creepy spy in the sky that had swiped her files, accessed her bank account and evidently now knew her ice cream preferences.  Claire wondered what other aspects of her life he had been snooping on.</p><p>She could already feel her hackles rising.</p><p>Scott seemed completely unaware of her discomfort as he guided her gently back towards the circle of sunken seating.  Virgil left his perch by the piano and headed over to join them.  In fact, all of the brothers had gathered on the various chairs and sofas in order to see their missing sibling.  Claire was literally surrounded by Tracy testosterone.</p><p>Scott opened the link to Thunderbird Five.</p><p>Claire already knew what John looked like.  After all, Virgil’s paintings portrayed excellent likenesses of the others so why should John’s picture be any less accurate.  What she wasn’t expecting was to see the final operative as a life sized hologram suspended over the table in the centre of the seating.</p><p>It was her first introduction to International Rescue in uniform.  John was evidently still on duty.  She then remembered that John was in space and the uniform was probably a necessity.  The bright blue of the uniform was enhanced but the blue tinge common to all holo-projections.  The golden orange of his baldric complemented rather than clashed with his ginger hair.  </p><p>“Go ahead, Scott.  What’s the situation?” John acknowledged his brother.</p><p>He evidently still had more then half an eye on his work.  His gaze was elsewhere.  Claire watched as his arms moved about with purposeful motion although she couldn’t see what he was manipulating; the digital interface John was using on the space station was not being transmitted over the link.</p><p>“No situation.  This is more of a social call.  I wanted to introduce you to Dr Claire Ashwell”</p><p>John paused what he was doing and turned his full attention to his own holo-projector which was currently displaying the image of four brothers and one stranger.  </p><p>“Hello Claire.  I hope my family are treating you well.”  </p><p>His voice was soft, slightly shy.  There was the awkward formality of one not comfortable making small talk.  Claire wasn’t sure what she was expecting but it certainly wasn’t this.  Unlike the other brothers who oozed self-confidence, John’s bearing was more deferential, more reserved.  </p><p>“Hello John.”  Her own tone was clipped.  It was difficult for her to move past the fact that she was face to face with an accomplished hacker who has no regard for her privacy even if he was part of International Rescue.</p><p>Scott could sense the tension emanating from Claire.  He also knew that John was not comfortable around strangers.  He wondered if he should have left this introduction until later.  Perhaps he should have waited until John was physically Earthside.</p><p>John, for his part, couldn’t work out why the scientist was giving him such a cold look.  He tried to lighten the mood.</p><p>“So, did I pick the right ice cream?” he asked with a hopeful smile.</p><p>Wrong question.  </p><p>The glare morphed to a look of hatred tinged with fright.  The ferocity of it was evident even in holographic form.  John’s own eyes widened in surprise.</p><p>Virgil tried to smooth the atmosphere.</p><p>“John.  Claire has pretty strong views on privacy.  We’ve all got used to you keeping an eye on us, keeping us safe, but Claire isn’t yet used to our ways.  I think she would appreciate it if you kept out of her digital life for now.”</p><p>John’s face fell.  He looked like a kicked puppy.  “Oh, um, ok.  I was only trying to help.  Kayo asked...”</p><p>“I know, Johnny.  I think, for now, that when it comes to Claire you’d better take your lead from Scott.  How about you finish up and get an early night.  You were up before any of us today.  Perhaps we out to save this for when everyone is more awake.”</p><p>John seized gratefully upon the exit he had been given.  He gave Virgil a brief smile of thanks and killed the link.  The hologram vanished.</p><p>Kayo, who had been watching to group from up on the mezzanine level, scowled and left the room.</p><p>“I think we <em>all</em> ought to get an early night.”  Scott was back in paternal mode.  “I need you all fit to fly if another call comes in.  Debrief and mission reports from today will be happen first thing in the morning.”</p><p>There were groans in triplicate from around the seating area but Scott held firm.  The commander had issued his order.</p><p>Claire made to follow the three departing operatives as they headed towards the sleeping quarters.  A hand on her arm stopped her.  She turned back and found herself subject to the sincere blue gaze of Scott Tracy.</p><p>“Yesterday I promised I would fly you home.  I need to know if that’s still what you want.  If you chose to walk away now I’ll accept your decision; after all, it’s your right.  You’ll be back in Denver by lunchtime tomorrow as long as we don’t get another call out.  But I hope, now you know who we are and what we do, that you will accept our offer and work with us.  Brains’ is convinced that your fuel and our engines will be a powerful combination.  At least stay for a few more days.  Get to know us.  Please.”</p><p>“Just answer me this.  If my fuel works like you think it will, would you have been able to save those people at ChemCorp?</p><p>“Honestly?   I don’t know.  Sometimes it’s best not to dwell on the ‘might have beens’.  What I do know is that sometimes every second counts.  Every second saved on the journey is an extra second in which we can save lives.  We train, we learn and we always aim to do better because people need us.  We can’t change the past but we can give more people a future.  I honestly believe that you and your ideas could be part of that.”</p><p>Scott waited expectantly.  The seconds dragged and felt like an eternity as she considered her answer.</p><p>“I’d do anything to prevent another ChemCorp.”  The pain she still felt was clear to hear. </p><p>“So you’ll stay?”</p><p>“I’ll stay.  I just hope your faith in me isn’t misplaced.”</p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Claire picked up the latest sample produced by the synthesising equipment and ran it through a spectral analysis.  This particular stage of the research process was laborious and slightly tedious but she had made more progress in a couple of days than she had made in the last two months.</p><p>The working environment was very different to what she was used to.  Back in Denver she would have to work around classes and other academics; sessions in the lab were carved into three hour blocks and the space was frequently shared with other people.  Campus security would turf her out if she attempted lone working beyond 6pm, citing university policy.  </p><p>In contrast the island kept its own schedules.  For the operatives their training, leisure and sleep were fitted in around the unpredictable round of emergencies which could call them to action at any time.  They tried to keep to a regular timetable but the nature of the job didn’t often allow it.  For Claire and Brains there was the freedom to create, explore and analyse at their own pace.  Sometimes Brains would be called away to lend his technical expertise to a rescue and sometimes a wrist comm would bleep to announce that there was food available but for the most part they were left alone.  </p><p>A dedicated workspace had been set up for Claire’s computer which had been unearthed from her flight case.  </p><p>The computer itself had proved to be a source of unintentional amusement for her.  She had left Brains and Virgil setting it up while she fetched her lab coat from her room, having forgotten that she had packed it in her other bag.  On her return she found the two men looking perplexed.  She watched them from the doorway as they ran tech scans in an attempt to electronically introduce the device to the island network.  When that failed they resorted to plugging cables into the various ports and data points in an effort to force the device to connect.  After a couple of minutes she took pity on them, unscrewing the back and showing that half the internal components had been stripped out.  There was no way her machine could be networked without a significant rebuild.</p><p>In the spirit of collaboration and trust she had allowed network cards to be reinstalled and for the first time in two years her work was accessible to other people.  It felt incredibly strange to watch someone else review her data after maintaining her isolation. </p><p>She soon found that with collaboration came innovation.  She had spent so long cutting herself off from the academic community that she had forgotten the leaps of understanding that could come from sharing ideas and knowledge.    She and Brains spent many hours pouring over her work so far and the technical specifications for the Thunderbirds.  </p><p>During those first few days Virgil was often to be found in the lab with them.  The slice to his leg meant that he was on light duties which freed up more time for theoretical pursuits.  His operational knowledge of the Thunderbirds and their internal workings, coupled with his engineering acumen meant he approached the problem from a different direction to the two scientists.  Their discussions of the possible and the desirable took many twists and turns.  </p><p>The results of these discussions were even better than anyone could have hoped.  With the resources and facilities of International Rescue at her disposal Claire had confidence that she could achieve even greater efficiencies than Brains had predicted.  The initial focus would be on Thunderbird Two and creating a bespoke fuel for the mighty transporter but Claire saw no reason why tailored fuels couldn’t be produced for each of the craft.  The challenge had been set and accepted. </p><p>Claire realised it was time to commit fully to International Rescue.</p><p>There was one slight problem.  She was already employed elsewhere.</p><p>A quick check of her work inbox showed a backlog of meeting request.  Students asking for tutorials.  Faculty meetings to discuss curriculum design.  The mere though of returning to to campus to deal with the daily drudge was depressing.</p><p>She sought out Scott and gave him a rundown of the problem. </p><p>She couldn’t just stay on the island.  She had obligations.  She needed to break with her old life officially or things would get messy.  She wanted to stay and continue her research but under the terms of her current contract she was obliged to work a four week notice period.</p><p>Scott let her continue her distracted ramblings.  When she had finally run out of steam he said calmly  “Leave it with me.  We’ll deal with it.”</p><p>And he did.  </p><p>It was easy to forget that Scott Tracy headed up not just International Rescue but also Tracy Industries; one of the most powerful and influential players in the world of commerce.</p><p>The HR department at Denver received a request from one of the shadow companies slotted under the Tracy Industries umbrella.  Negotiations were made.  Claire got released from her contract early.  Denver got a new basketball court.</p><p>It was with some satisfaction that Claire cleared her inbox.  A simple ‘delete all’ that absolved her from the responsibilities of her former life.</p><p>There was only one final action to perform.</p><p>Claire sent an email to her Head of Department, notifying him that she was leaving and letting him know when she would be making a final visit to clear her desk.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was decided that Virgil would accompany Claire for her trip back to Denver.  He had local knowledge of both the city and university campus.  He was also a one-man removal team and when it came to brute strength for moving boxes Virgil was was your man.  He was the obvious choice.  Not that she had too much to move, her apartment was rented furnished so there was nothing bulky deal with.</p><p>It was with some trepidation that she unlocked her apartment and led Virgil inside. </p><p>The wages of a university lecturer were modest and her apartment was small.  It was a far cry from the luxury of Tracy Island.  Part of her worried that Virgil would look down on her for her humble living arrangements.  It just showed how much she still had to learn about the Tracy brothers.  They might live on a tropical island now but life hadn’t always been that way.  Jeff Tracy had made sure that his sons never forgot their roots.  They had been taught never to take their fortune for granted and never to look down on those who had less than they did.  </p><p>Her original departure to the island had happened in such a hurry that she couldn’t remember what state she had left her apartment in.  A quick scan of the living area revealed she hadn’t left anything embarrassing lying around.  Any mess was behind closed doors. </p><p>She breathed a sigh of relief.</p><p>The air inside was thick and heavy, warmed by the Colorado summer.  She left Virgil perched on a compact sofa while she went around opening all the windows.  Kitchen, bedroom, bathroom and the tiny work space that the agent had optimistically billed as a second bedroom but was really no more than a cupboard.</p><p>A quick scan of the kitchen revealed that anything fresh had long since gone off.  She might not have been gone for long but the summer heat had had an effect.  She grabbed a bin bag and started throwing out spoiled food.  The remaining dried goods did not make an appealing prospect for dinner.  </p><p>A shadow in the doorway showed that Virgil had already got bored of sitting down.  He took an appraising look around the tiny kitchen and offered to head out for supplies.  Claire gratefully accepted.  </p><p>She used the time he was gone to hurry around, throwing items into bags and boxes.  Scott wanted Virgil back and on duty as soon as possible so they planned to spend barely 24 hours in the city.  One evening and morning to pack down the apartment then a quick visit to campus tomorrow afternoon to empty her office before flying home again.</p><p>The remaining foodstuff in her kitchen were checked and anything still sealed was packed up for donation to a food bank.  She made sure to keep hold of the coffee.  She had lived with the Tracys long enough to know that Virgil needed coffee to survive almost as much as he needed oxygen.</p><p>The living room, bathroom and bedroom were also simple to pack up.</p><p>The cupboard work space was not so easy.  She had always kept the small desk that had housed her computer tidy and uncluttered.  The rest of the room was crammed with anything that didn’t have a proper home in the rest of the apartment.</p><p>When Virgil returned he found her sat on the floor trying to organise the accumulated mountains of life detritus.  Old text books were stacked precariously.  Boxes of childhood memories, carted from house to house but never unpacked, had been opened as though she needed to reassure herself that the contents were still safe.  The task of sorting piles for keeping, throwing and donating had ground to a halt.  </p><p>“Come on, time for a break.  I got pizza” he grinned at her while holding aloft a couple of pizza boxes.</p><p>Claire gratefully got to her feet, dusted herself down and shut the door on the mess.</p><p>One thing she had quickly come the learn about life on the island was that food was unpredictable.  Each member of the family had different levels of culinary skill and preferences.  Each took a turn at cooking depending on who was available.  The only thing you could be certain of was that if Grandma Tracy was responsible the food would be virtually inedible.  Claire had come to the conclusion that the boys’ stomachs must be as strong as the rest of their muscles.</p><p>“I wasn’t expecting it to be so hard” she sighed between mouthfuls of pizza.</p><p>Virgil just looked at her, puzzled.</p><p>“All of that”.  She gestured vaguely in the direction of the cupboard where he had found her.  “Trying to sort out what I need to bring.  It feels stupid not being able to let go of things.”</p><p>“So don’t”.  He said it as though it was the simplest thing in the world.  “You’re moving to the island.  We aren’t asking you to completely give up your past.”</p><p>“But there is so much of it.”</p><p>“It’s not like we are pushed for space.  Everything here will fit in Tracy Two and we can always make some space available in the store rooms.”</p><p>“It just seems stupid to cart it all around.  There are things in there I haven’t used for years.”</p><p>“Any yet still you keep them.  Memories are important, they make us who we are.  Sometimes we need to keep a physical reminder of our past.”</p><p>“Virgil Tracy, I didn’t have you down as the sentimental sort.”</p><p>He grinned.  “Hidden talents, me.  If it makes you feel any better you won’t be the only one on the island with a teddy bear.  Just ask Gordon to introduce you to Fishy some time.”</p><p>They finished off the pizzas, disposed of the boxes and carried on with the task in hand.</p><p>Virgil gave her the space she needed to pack, limiting his main contributions to stacking up the finished boxes ready for loading up in the morning and carting out the inevitable bags of rubbish.</p><p>The apartment soon resembled a cross between a warehouse and an airport departure lounge.  A motley assortment of boxes, bags and cases were arranged around the walls.</p><p>“Time to call it a night I think” said Claire.  “The rest of this can be dealt with in the morning.”</p><p>“Suits me fine” said Virgil, stretching out his back muscles after all the repeated bending and lifting.  </p><p>“Um”, she shifted about with embarrassment.  “As you can see I’m not really set up for visitors.”</p><p>“It’s fine.  I’ll take the couch.”</p><p>The absurdity of this struck Claire.  The couch was small.  Even sat on it Virgil had looked out of scale.  The idea of his attempting to sleep on it was ridiculous.</p><p>“Stop being such a gentleman.  Unless you are going to attempt some sort of human origami you’ll never fit.  You’ll be much more comfortable in my bed.”</p><p>As soon as the words left her mouth she realised how bad that sounded.  She flushed scarlet.</p><p>“Um, I mean, I’ll take the couch.  I’m shorter than you.  And you need to be fit to fly tomorrow.”  Talk about state the obvious.  She wanted the ground to open up and swallow her.</p><p>“Thanks.  Offer accepted.”  He flashed a trademark smile over his shoulder at her as he disappeared into the bedroom.</p><p>Claire flopped heavily down on the sofa and put her head in her hands.  How could she have said that?  The embarrassment burned into her soul.  If Gordon or Alan ever got to hear that she had invited Virgil into her bed, even by accident, she would never hear the end of it.</p><p>xoxoxox</p><p>The morning bought a fresh flurry of packing fuelled by copious amounts of coffee.  </p><p>The had hired a van to transport Claire’s belongings to the airfield and this was nearly loaded and ready to go.  As Virgil carried the last box down the stairs Claire looked around the small space that she had called home.  It looked empty and forlorn, stripped of all her personal possessions.  </p><p>Claire breathed a silent goodbye and shut the door on one chapter of her life.</p><p>The other tie that needed severing was her association with the university.</p><p>Claire didn’t keep many possessions on campus so their visit should just be a brief one on their way to the airfield.  All she needed to do was empty a few drawers, check she hadn’t left anything on her work PC and hand back her security pass.  </p><p>She left Virgil enjoying the sunshine in the quad outside so she could say goodbye to her colleagues without having to make awkward introductions.  Not that there were many people around over the summer.  She hoped she would be in and out within half an hour.</p><p>As she headed down the corridor to her office her Head of Department appeared, almost as though he had been looking out for her.</p><p>“Hi Claire.  I was beginning to worry I’d missed you.”</p><p>“Oh, hey Mitch.  No, I’ve only just got here.  Are there many in today?”</p><p>“Only me and Clive and he is locked away in one of the haz-mat labs.”</p><p>“Ah well.  It would have been nice to say goodbye to the team but I know what it’s like.  As soon as classes finish everyone takes the chance to grab a vacation.”</p><p>“Hopefully the rest of them will come back though.  You know, I was surprised when you said you were leaving.  One minute you are booking up every lab slot available, the next you’re sending an email to say you’re off.”</p><p>“I was pretty surprised myself.  You just never can tell where life will take you.”</p><p>“So where are you off to?”</p><p>Claire avoided the question by rummaging through her bag for the key to her office.  She unlocked the door and Mitch followed her inside.  He leant against her desk, watching her while she opened and closed drawers, retrieving forgotten belongings.  </p><p>She booted up her work computer.  She had been pretty disciplined about keeping her research on her own computer but she wanted to make sure there was nothing sensitive left behind on the university network.  She systematically deleted files and transferred a few interesting articles onto her tablet.</p><p>The book shelf was next on the list.  She packed the weighty tomes into the holdall she had kept spare for the purpose.</p><p>Mitch never left the office.  It felt a little unnerving to have him watching her all the time.</p><p>Feeling the effects of all the coffee from the morning she made her excuses and headed down the corridor to the bathrooms.</p><p>When she returned Mitch was still perched on the edge of her desk.  She had always got on well with him but she was starting to find his presence annoying.  As she went to gather up the last of her belongings she realised something was wrong.  Her tablet, which she had left on the far side of the desk, was now on the side closest to Mitch.  Her suspicions were roused.</p><p>Making up a spurious excuse about checking whether she had left her lab coat in one of the supply cupboards she swiftly exited the office again.</p><p>Once she was a safe distance away she activated her wrist comm.  Much as it pained her she knew she needed the help of one particular Tracy brother.</p><p>She opened a link to Thunderbird Five.</p><p>“John, I...I need your help.”</p><p>“Go ahead, Claire.”  John managed to keep the puzzlement out of his voice, Claire still tended to shy away from contact with him.  He could tell she was worried about something though.</p><p>“I’m on campus and something doesn’t feel right.  My Head of Department won’t leave me alone and  I think he might be after my work.  Can you check if any access attempts have been made on my tablet in the last ten minutes.”</p><p>“Sure.”  Claire’s tablet had been connected to the International Rescue secure networks and it only took him a moment to call up the information he needed.  “I can see four failed log in attempts.  He didn’t get anywhere though, our systems are not easily breached.”</p><p>“Not this time but what if he has in the past.  I always thought he was just being friendly before but now he just seems, well...creepy.  I’ve always been so careful but what if he already has some of my research.  I never kept a digital copy at work but what if he took photos of my notebooks.  We were often in the labs together.  If I wanted to work late he would usually volunteer stay on with me so that campus security wouldn’t chuck me out.”</p><p>The worry in her voice was now plain to hear.  John did what he did best – calming people down.</p><p>“It’s ok.  I can run a check of his university network files.  If I find anything I’ll wipe them.  I guess his network username follows the same convention yours did?”</p><p>“Yeah.  It’s all standardised.  His would be Mhayworthy.”</p><p>“Give me a minute and I’ll see what I can find.”</p><p>John quickly accessed Mitch’s university profile.  He rolled his eyes slightly at the simplicity of the university’s security systems.  Breaking through the defences wasn’t even a challenge.</p><p>Going off Claire’s suggestion that Mitch could have taken photos of her notebooks he started his search in the image files.</p><p>What he saw made his blood run cold.</p><p>There were hundreds of photos.  The notebooks appeared in some of them but only incidental to the main subject of the images.  Claire.</p><p>Claire at work.</p><p>Claire having lunch.</p><p>Claire walking through a park.</p><p>Claire leaving her apartment.</p><p>John didn’t want to alarm her but the man evidently had a full blown obsession.  The date stamps on the images showed he had been stalking her for some time.   </p><p>“Claire, where is he at the moment?”</p><p>“In my office.  Did you find anything.”</p><p>“You were right, he had some photos.”  He decided not to enlighten her on the exact nature of the pictures.  He didn’t want the truth to send her into a panic.  “I’ve sent a virus that will target all the image files on his computer.  It will also access his other devices via his cloud account so anything he has at home or on his phone will be wiped too.”</p><p>“Thanks John” and she genuinely meant it.  She made herself a promise to make it up to the spaceman for all the ill thoughts she had harboured against him.</p><p>For good measure John tasked Eos with monitoring the man, an easy task for her that would barely trouble her processing power and not impact on her other duties.  Life for International Rescue could get complicated this was reported to the police and Claire got caught up in a court case but he also wasn’t prepared to let the man off scot free.  It Mitch tried anything even remotely illicit in future Eos would alert the police through an anonymous tip-off and ensure that the full force of the law came down on him.</p><p>“Now Claire, I don’t want you to go back in there with him alone.  Give me your location and I’ll send Virgil up to you.”</p><p>Once he was assured that Claire was safe John got in contact with Virgil.  His older brother was surprised to receive a call from his space bound sibling.</p><p>John quickly appraised Virgil of the situation, giving his brother rather more information that he had given Claire.  His intrusion into Mitch’s files had unearthed more than just the photos.  After Claire had informed the man of her impending departure his chemical research had extended beyond his academic interests and into the world of illicit sedatives.  Evidently the impending departure of the object of his obsessions had led him to darker thoughts than just watching her.</p><p>Less than three minutes later Virgil came pounding along the corridor and was by Claire’s side.  </p><p>Mitch looked up when he heard the door open.  The smile he greeted Claire’s return with soon vanished when Virgil entered the room.  </p><p>Virgil was making full use of his height and weight advantage and positively loomed over the other man.  He stayed polite for Claire’s sake but his attitude screamed alpha-male.</p><p>“Unauthorised personnel aren’t permitted in this corridor.”  Mitch was not pleased about the unexpected intrusion.</p><p>“It’s ok Mitch.  He’s with me.  He’s a...a friend come to help me move my stuff.”  The Tracy name was well known on campus, especially so soon after Denver hosting the latest round of the Tracy Prize.  Claire felt it better to keep things vague, especially since Mitch seemed unaware of the identity of her companion.</p><p>Virgil flashed his visitor pass to show he was there legitimately.</p><p>Mitch instantly dismissed Virgil as a being of no consequence.  Someone picked for their brawn rather than their brain.  </p><p>“So Claire, I was hoping I could take you for a farewell drink.  It’s a shame the department couldn’t give you a proper send off but there is no reason why we can’t mark the occasion.”</p><p>“Sorry Mitch but I’m on a tight schedule.”</p><p>“Maybe this weekend then?”  He came across as hopeful, verging on desperate.</p><p>Virgil decided it was time to shut him down.</p><p>“Claire, we really need to get going.  Have you packed everything you need?  We can’t risk losing our runway slot.”</p><p>This was a lie.  Tracy Two was currently in a hanger on the closest GDF base in case Virgil was urgently needed at a rescue zone.  They couldn’t risk being stuck for want of a take-off slot at a congested commercial airfield.  Virgil wanted to impress upon Claire that it was better they left quickly, thankfully she got the hint.</p><p>“Runway slot?”  Mitch asked.</p><p>“Um, yeah, this new job isn’t local.  I’m leaving town completely” Claire explained sheepishly.  She made an obvious show of checking her watch then turned to Virgil.  “You’re right, we really need to be getting out of here.”</p><p>Claire swept the last few items into her bag while Virgil claimed the holdall of books. </p><p>They left the building and made their way to the way to the waiting van unaware that Mitch was watching their every step.  Unaware as he raised his phone to take some final pictures for his collection.  Unaware of the curses that followed when the Head of Department found not only all the photos on his camera reel gone but the camera itself fully disabled. </p><p>John had done his job well.</p>
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<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Claire and Virgil pulled up at the GDF base ready to start the return journey to the island.    </p><p>Initially Claire had been sceptical of International Rescue’s close relationship with the GDF but Scott had made it clear that they were completely autonomous.  International Rescue were under no obligation to share their technology with the military unit however much the GDF might like them to.  The two organisations would work together on occasion, and the GDF bases were handy places to land the Thunderbirds, but overall the GDF let International Rescue operate without interference.</p><p>As they finished loading the Claire’s belongings into Tracy Two a GDF armoured car approached.  An imposing looking woman wearing the uniform of a colonel jumped out.  </p><p>Virgil straightened up.  He had been hoping they could depart without a fuss but it looked like that chance had gone.     </p><p>“Virgil!” The greeting was warm despite her stern appearance.  “I heard you were making use of GDF hospitality again.”</p><p>“Colonel Casey, always a pleasure to see you.”</p><p>It was evident to Claire that the two knew each other well.  She tried to stay unobtrusively in the background.</p><p>“You have been making rather a lot of visits to Denver recently.  Not that we mind of course.  I was so pleased when Gordon gave me the good news.  You must be Claire.  Delighted to meet you, I’m Val Casey.”</p><p>Claire found herself subject to the full attention of the GDF colonel.  She shook the proffered hand.</p><p>“Pleased to meet you too Colonel Casey.”</p><p>“Please Claire, I’m Auntie Val to the family.”</p><p>“Good news?  Um, what exactly has Gordon been saying?”  Virgil was feeling distinctly on the back foot.</p><p>“Jeff would have been so proud to see one of his boys finally settling down.  I hope you will be very happy together.  You look after him Claire, this one has a tendency to push things to the limit.  Now I must be getting off.  Fly safely you two.”  </p><p>They watched as Colonel Casey climbed back into the armoured car and drove off over the apron.</p><p>Claire and Virgil looked at each other in confusion.  Gordon had some explaining to do.</p><p>xoxoxox</p><p>Once they were in the air Virgil opened a link between Tracy Two and his aquanaut brother.</p><p>“Gordon, I’ve just had a very interesting conversation with Colonel Casey.”</p><p>“Oh, uh, she came to see you did she?”  </p><p>“Yes.  Wanted to congratulate us on the good news.  Care to explain exactly what you have been telling her?”</p><p>They could hear the smirk in Gordon’s voice over the airwaves.</p><p>“Only the truth…sort of.  She called up wanting to know why we needed hanger space in Denver for the third time in a month.  There’s been no emergencies and she was getting susupicious.  What was I meant to say?”</p><p>“Gordon…”  The implied threat from Virgil was clear to hear.</p><p>“Well I didn’t think it would go down well if I announced we had a new super scientist on the team.  You know how much the GDF would like to get their hands on Brains’ inventions.  I just told Auntie Val that Claire was a someone you knew from university and that she had finally decided it was time for some commitment, hence moving in.  It’s not my fault if Auntie Val jumped to the wrong conclusion.”  Gordon’s tone was saccharine innocence.</p><p>“Gordon, you knew exactly what you were doing.  Auntie Val is practically buying a hat and booking a celebrant for us.  You are in so much trouble when I get home.”</p><p>“Chill out, bro.  At least the GDF aren’t going to start looking too closely into Claire’s credentials.  You should be pleased.  Now you can carry on getting that lumbering bus of yours up to a decent speed without interference.  I’m just amazed she bought it though.  Now if it had been me bringing a girl home it might have been more believable.” </p><p>Virgil growled and killed the link.  Little brothers could be so annoying.  He also hated to admit it but Gordon had probably done the right thing.  Colonel Casey would likely be very interested to hear that International Rescue was expanding its personnel; she might give them some leeway in respect of her friendship with their father but she was GDF first and foremost.  Virgil just wished that Scott or John could have been the one to take the call.</p><p>“Sorry about that”, he tried to smooth things over with Claire.  “It’s one of the perils of working with family.  Nothing is off-limits.  I’ll get my own back somehow.”</p><p>“Is Gordon always that cocky?”</p><p>“Afraid so.  He seems to think it’s his purpose in life to drive the rest of us to distraction.  On the Gordon scale of things that was actually pretty mild.”</p><p>The rest of the flight passed with Virgil regaling Claire with tales of Gordon’s various pranks and the retribution that had followed.  It gave her some eye-opening insights into the inner workings of the Tracy family.  Family being a term that seemed to encompass everyone on the island, not just those related by blood.  </p><p>Beneath the calm and professional exterior was a family that evidently needed the release of occasional bursts of humour.  It made sense really.  Their working lives were so high stress it would be easy to crack under the pressure.  An existence that was punctuated only by one disaster zone after another would lead to burn out very quickly.  The small and secretive nature of the organisation meant they not only trusted each other with their lives out in the field but they relied on each other for support dealing with the aftermath too; sometimes that support was intensely emotional, sometimes it was just a good dose of laughter to clear the gloom after a tough day.</p><p>Sitting there in the cockpit, watching the cloud tops skim by far beneath and listening to her pilot, Claire finally found herself relaxing.  It was hard not to be put at ease and feel safe with this big bear of a man.  He was kind and unassuming but also fiercely protective and loyal.  </p><p>Claire also discovered that Gordon wasn’t the only brother with a mischievous side.  The frown that had creased Virgil’s face before due to his brother’s antics had been replaced by a twinkle as he drew her in to a possible plot for revenge.  By the time they were on final approach to the island a plan was beginning to come together.  Gordon had better watch his back.</p>
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<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Is it ready?”</p><p>The low rumbling voice was quiet, a barely audible whisper in her ear.  It sent an illicit thrill tingling through her body.  There was no real need for the secrecy, Brains was deeply absorbed in his own project on the other side of the lab and had barely registered Virgil’s presence.</p><p>Claire nodded.  She pointed the end of her pen at a small vial of colourless liquid on the back of her bench then continued scribbling in her notebook.  It had taken several attempts and some failed testing on herself in order to ensure the mix was right but she was satisfied the liquid would do its job.</p><p>“Good.  Grandma has gone to the mainland for a couple of days.  I’ve checked in with John and there are no emergencies brewing.  Weather systems are quiet, volcanoes are peaceful and Langstrom Fischler is on his best behaviour at a family wedding.  The perfect night for a family dinner.”</p><p>Virgil wandered off the claim the kitchen, leaving Claire to continue her work.</p><p>Years of campfire cooking on family camping trips had given Virgil ample opportunities to hone his culinary skills for one-pot recipes.  With all the comforts of a well-equipped kitchen to hand he could knock up a chilli that would have his brothers salivating more than any fine dining could.  He knew that with this on offer no one would want to miss the meal.  </p><p>He set to work chopping onions and tomatoes.  A special blend of spices was ground and mixed.  Soon the warm savoury aroma of good cooking began to permeate the house.  A smell that would develop and set stomachs rumbling as the chilli was left to simmer gently.</p><p>First one resident then another wandered into the kitchen only to be swiftly evicted.  Any brother attempting to dip a spoon into the pot for an early taste soon found themselves swatted away with a ladle.  Virgil was not going to let anyone spoil their appetites before the feast was ready.</p><p>When the instruction was issued over the wrist comms that dinner was served it was as though the emergency alert had sounded.  Running footsteps sounded around the complex as everyone hurried to claim a place at the table.  Only Brains and Claire arrived at a more sedate pace.  </p><p>Once everyone was seated Virgil started to carry across huge steaming pots of chilli, rice and a large tray of salty nachos to the table.</p><p>“Claire, before you sit down would you mind giving me a hand?”  He indicated a tray of water glasses ready filled for distribution.</p><p>Claire nodded and headed over to the counter.  With her back to the assembled diners she put a few drops of liquid from the vial into one of the water glasses then slipped the vial back into her pocket.  Turning back to the table she then carefully handed out the drinks, making sure that one particular fish brother received the correct glass.</p><p>Ladles were dipped into pots and plates were filled.  Virgil and Claire caught each other’s eye and smirked slightly as Gordon took a swig of his water while waiting for his turn with the serving spoons.</p><p>Everyone began tucking in.</p><p>Everyone except Gordon.</p><p>The first mouthful of chilli had him coughing and turning slightly purple.  Scott looked at him with concern.</p><p>“Just went down the wrong way” he croaked.</p><p>The second mouthful burnt his tongue and the third had him breaking out in a sweat.</p><p>“What’s the matter Gordon?  You don’t look too well.”</p><p>Trust Scott to pick up on his discomfort.  He was starving and all he wanted to do was wolf down what was normally one of his favourite meals but the concoction in front of him was barely palatable.</p><p>“I’m fine” he muttered.  “It’s just a bit too spicy tonight.”</p><p>Now more than just Scott was looking at him with concern.  If anything Virgil’s chilli was on the milder aromatic side of the spice spectrum, something Gordon had been known to tease his older brother about on occasion. </p><p>“You sure you’re eating the same meal as the rest of us?” asked Scott.</p><p>Alan reached over and shovelled a large mouthful off of Gordon’s plate.  “Nothing wrong with the food.  Gordon’s just being a wuss” he announced.</p><p>Everyone resumed eating but Scott kept a careful eye on the aquanaut, worried in case his brother was sickening for something. </p><p>He wasn’t the only one keeping watch; Claire and Virgil shared a satisfied smirk.</p><p>Gordon’s stomach growled.  He had been waiting for this all afternoon and now, for some reason, his portion was inedible.  Yet everyone else around him tucking in happily having been served from the same pot.  He nibbled at his rice and was pleased to find that he could eat that without a hitch.</p><p>Having been denied the chilli Gordon turned his attention to the nachos.  As he popped the first crisp into his mouth it was as though his tongue had been dragged across a salt lick.  He hurriedly swirled more of his water round his mouth in an effort to take taste away.</p><p>He was now feeling thoroughly miserable.  He picked at his rice, the only thing he could manage to eat.  Plain boiled rice did not make for a satisfying meal.</p><p>With the main course over Virgil cleared the table to make room for dessert.  Tubs of lemon sorbet were brought out of the freezer and placed on the table.</p><p>“Hey, how come Scott gets his favourite?” Alan grumbled.</p><p>“If you bothered to help out when the supplies need ordering you might be able to pop a few of your own favourites on the shopping list” Virgil admonished, leaving Alan looking a little shamefaced.  The youngest of the clan had got very adept at making himself scarce when there were household chores to be done.  “And anyway, the lemon will be a nice palate cleanser after the chilli.”</p><p>It was with some trepidation that Gordon picked up his dessert spoon.  He took a nervous sip of water before taking a bite of the frozen pudding.</p><p>He nearly went cross eyed as he received an intense sour hit.  His cheeks were sucked in and his tongue felt like it had cramp.  He threw down his spoon with a clatter.</p><p>“Gordon, what the hell is wrong with you tonight?” Kayo snapped.  “Virgil spent hours cooking and you are acting like someone is trying to poison you.”</p><p>Gordon was now thoroughly bewildered.  He looked around the table and his eyes lit upon Virgil and Claire who were both trying to stifle a laugh.</p><p>“I don’t know.  But those two sure do.”  He pointed across the table as he made his accusation.  “I don’t know how, but those two are responsible.”</p><p>Scott followed his brother’s pointing finger.  He couldn’t see how Virgil and Claire could have done anything, they had all eaten from the same pots and served themselves, but he knew his brothers and Virgil was definitely looking guilty.</p><p>“Spill” he commanded.  “What have you done to Gordon?”</p><p>Claire and Virgil shared a look.  It was time to confess.  Claire put her hand into her pocket, withdrew the glass vial, and placed it on the table.</p><p>“What is that and is Gordon going to be ok?” there was a definite threat in the question.</p><p>Virgil placed himself in the firing line.  “It’s perfectly harmless.  It just overstimulates your taste buds and makes them hyper-sensitive.  The effects wear off over time.”</p><p>Claire nodded.  “I’ve tested it on myself a few times, you’ll live.”</p><p>Gordon breathed a sigh of relief.  It explained why he was only able to stomach the plain rice. </p><p>“And how much longer of this do I have to put up with?” he grumbled, taking another sip of water.</p><p>“Well it lasts for about two hours after the last dose.  Which means…” Virgil looked theatrically at his watch, then at the glass that Gordon was still holding, “you have about one hour, fifty-nine minutes and thirty seconds left to go.  You have been dosing yourself nicely all evening.”</p><p>“Why, Virgil?”  Scott knew the engineer was not one to act unprovoked and this was likely therefore to be an act of retaliation.  </p><p>“Call it payback for his little chat with Auntie Val.  And he called Two a lumbering bus.  No one gets away with insulting my ‘bird” he pouted.</p><p>Scott rolled his eyes.  These pranks between brothers were common enough and as long a no serious damage was done he generally found it was better to let things run their course.  </p><p>He had to admit he was more than a little surprised that Claire had been a participant in tonight’s entertainment.  From what he had seen she was dedicated to her work.  If anything, too dedicated.  Before tonight he had been worried that she wasn’t really integrating with the family.  Now he was just relieved that, with her chemical talents, she had teamed up with Virgil rather than Gordon or Alan.</p><p>For some people revenge is a dish best served cold.  For Virgil and Claire it was a dish best served spicy, salty and sour.</p>
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<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The atmosphere inside the cockpit of Thunderbird Two was tense.  Virgil’s movements were clipped and precise as he flew the green behemoth towards the danger zone.  Gordon could sense that his elder brother was immersed in his own thoughts and wisely stayed silent in the co-pilot’s chair.  </p><p>The grip of the pilot was a little too tight, the set of his shoulders a little too rigid.</p><p>No rescue was without risks; it was the nature of their existence.  Adrenaline spiked.  Ideas buzzed as information came in.  Plans were made and revised.  This call out was different.  Today two of their own were caught up in the situation.  It added an extra level of worry.</p><p>“I’ve reached the conference centre.  I’ll liaise with the local coordinator and give you an update when I can.”  Scott’s voice came over the comms, shattering the silence.  “Thunderbird Two, how far out are you?”</p><p>“Sixteen minutes.”  The reply was abrupt, the voice strained.  “John, have you got the building schematics yet?”</p><p>“Sending them through now” his space bound sibling responded.  “Land on the roof when you get there.  It’s your best access point.”</p><p>“FAB.”</p><p>Virgil passed control to Gordon then reverted to moody silence as he studied the building plans John had just supplied him with.</p><p>Only that morning he had dropped Claire and Brains off at the very same conference centre for a science and engineering exhibition.  The pair had been chattering excitedly on the outbound flight about the exhibits they were hoping to see and choosing which seminars to attend from the programme.  Virgil had been quite jealous that he hadn’t been released to attend too, his role limited to playing taxi service.  If he had examined his feelings further he might have attributed his jealousy to more than just the conference attendance.</p><p>Now his two friends were stuck somewhere inside the enormous building, held hostage by a group that were yet to make their demands.  </p><p>The lack of information was one of the causes of stress.</p><p>Virgil found himself concentrating more on the scientists than on the task in hand.  He gave himself a slight mental shake and refocused himself on the building plans.</p><p>The architect had evidently been going for a heavy industrial theme.  The whole building was comprised of reinforced concrete and thick steel doors.  The central space was dominated by an exhibition hall and auditorium.  From here corridors radiated off leading to smaller rooms.  Each room individually lockable with electronic keypads. It was a veritable fortress.  </p><p>“What joker commissioned this?  And why the hell is everything lockable?  It looks more like a prison than a conference centre.”</p><p>“Francois Lemaire.  All those security features are so he can host art exhibitions and the like.  It gives the artists reassurance their works are safe.  Apparently he took his inspiration from Parkmoor Scrubs” the voice from space responded</p><p>“Figures” Virgil snorted.  “Any chance of the access codes to these rooms?”</p><p>“Unfortunately not.  It seems the terrorist cell have been planning this for a while.  They infiltrated the staff and have changed the codes.  Eos has been trying to access the security systems but something is shutting her out.”</p><p>As they approached the conference centre Virgil reclaimed the controls.  VTOLs fired as he guided Thunderbird Two onto her rooftop landing platform.  He could see Thunderbird One on the ground below.  Her pilot by her side with a representative of the local police.</p><p>“Thunderbird Two, nice of you to join us.”  Virgil had to restrain himself from giving his elder brother a cutting response.  Now was not the time to be joking about his response times when the one person who could make a difference to them was in danger.</p><p>“Update?” he growled.</p><p>“Negative.  Last contact with the terrorists was the call announcing they had the building in lock down and all delegates held as hostages.  They said they would lay out their full demands at 11:00 hours but they never made the scheduled call.  All attempts to communicate with the building from outside have failed.”</p><p>Virgil’s sense of dread only grew.  Their own attempts to reach Claire and Brains had also failed suggesting the group holding the building had some sort of signal disruptor that was blocking transmissions.  With the hostage takers going dark too there was no way of knowing what was the situation inside the building.  Negotiation was impossible, hence International Rescue being called in to assist.</p><p>“Are the terrorists armed?”</p><p>There was a pause before Scott responded.  “Affirmative.  The local coordinator confirms.  The original transmission contained gunshot sounds; the group wanted to provide proof they were serious.”</p><p>“I’ll access through the roof.  Gordon and I will provide initial reconnaissance.”</p><p>“Remember, if there is some sort of signal blocker inside we are likely to lose contact with you too.  Do not engage the group.  Repeat, do not engage.  You have thirty minutes to assess the situation.  If you cannot reopen communications then I expect you to return to the roof to report in.  The GFD are on their way and will take the building by force if necessary but until they get here you are on your own.”</p><p>“FAB”</p><p>Virgil killed the link to Thunderbird One and turned to his younger brother.  The intense look in those chestnut brown eyes chilled the aquanaut.  Gordon sincerely hoped that they did not run across those responsible for holding their friends captive; if they did he didn’t fancy his chances of restraining his brother.  That look said loud and clear that Virgil would do whatever it took to protect his family.  </p><p>With Virgil kitted out in his exo-suit he and Gordon exited Thunderbird Two and headed out into the unknown.</p><p>Access to the building was remarkable easy.  The build team had evidently blown the budget on the public spaces.  The flimsy and insubstantial maintenance doorway to the roof was easily forced open.  </p><p>The brothers descended into the heart of the building, trying to tread quietly on the polished concrete floors.  </p><p>A quick test of the comms showed that something was indeed blocking the signals.  Even the life signs scanners had been disabled.  The brothers were completely isolated.</p><p>Virgil brought up a diagram he had downloaded onto his wrist computer.  John had overlaid the exhibition map onto the building schematics so they could see which sections of the site should be in use.  </p><p>They tiptoed through the building.</p><p>They met no one.</p><p>While Gordon had initially been worried about having to prevent his brother from launching a one-man rescue mission, now he was worried about the complete absence of anyone at all.  </p><p>Even the exhibition space was deserted.  The open hall was set out with stands.  Displays of equipment and inventions filled the space.  Corridors led to seminar rooms and more secure exhibition spaces for those inventions requiring tighter security.  Two sets of double doors leading in to the auditorium were open. </p><p>The brothers shared an uneasy glance.  Somewhere in here were scores of exhibition visitors and their captors.  </p><p>Somewhere in here were their friends. </p><p>The steel doors and building design muffled any sounds.  At least they hoped it was only the building design that was responsible for the ominous silence.</p><p>Silence that was suddenly broken by the sound of an explosion.</p><p>The brothers took off at speed in the direction of the blast.</p>
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<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For Claire and Brains the day had started early.</p><p>Several weeks earlier Brains had gone to Scott, waving the details of the prestigious science and engineering symposium.  He had made the case that some of the technologies being presented could prove useful to International Rescue and asked if he could attend.  Scott had readily agreed and once Claire had joined the team the Commander had sourced a second ticket.</p><p>Now they were in Tracy Two excitedly circling seminars in the programme while Virgil flew them to the venue.  They tried to include the normally cheerful engineer in their chatter but for once Virgil didn’t seem inclined to talk.  He dropped them off with a few curt instructions about the arrangements for picking them up and returned to the cockpit.  </p><p>If Claire and Brains had picked up on the strained atmosphere they were too wrapped up in the exhibition to pass comment.  If they had turned around they might have noticed their pilot lingering a little longer than necessary to watch them depart.</p><p>Inside the conference centre the pair started wandering around the main exhibition space, waiting for the doors to the auditorium to open.  The event proper was to be opened with a keynote speech given by an eminent researcher into fluid dynamics and they were keen to get good seats.</p><p>Once the doors to the auditorium had been opened the delegates filed in and the exhibition space emptied.  Claire and Brains made their way down the steps flanking the tiered seating right to the bottom and claimed a pair of seats front and centre.</p><p>The lights dimmed and the lectern on the dais was picked out in the bright stage lighting.  </p><p>The keynote speaker took to the stage.  Claire and Brains drank in every word.</p><p>The speech was rudely interrupted as the auditorium doors burst open.  The assembled delegates turned in their seats to see what was the matter.  </p><p>A motley collection of men bearing assault rifles stood in the twin double doorways, their weapons trained on the crowd.  Some were dressed in the uniform of the venue stewards, others in unmarked combat fatigues.  The hushed silence of the delegates held for a moment until somebody screamed, then panic and hysteria set in.</p><p>“Silence!” one of their captors roared.  There was a staccato burst of gunfire as a stream of bullets was aimed towards the ceiling.</p><p>“Do as you are told and you will not be harmed.  On your feet.  Move!”</p><p>The delegates started leaving their seats and making their way up to the main auditorium exits and their captors.</p><p>Claire nudged Brains who seemed frozen in shock.  He tried to stand but before he had got halfway up Claire was pulling him down to the floor so they were shielded from sight by the seats.  She hoped that the dim lighting and the moving crowd had hidden their action.  She put her finger to her lips then pointed under the seats.  Brains correctly interpreted her instruction and the pair shuffled through the small gaps between the seat legs.  </p><p>They found themselves in a dark, hollow space under the seating.  The underside of the rising tiers was boxed in above them.  The sound of innumerable footsteps as the other delegates climbed the stairs and exited the auditorium reverberated around them.</p><p>They waited in silence until the last footsteps had died away and they could no longer hear the shouts of the captors directing everyone else to some unknown destination.  They waited several more minutes until they felt safe from the risk of discovery.</p><p>Claire tapped her comms and tried to open a link with Tracy Island.  </p><p>Nothing.</p><p>Brains tried his comms.</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>The pair looked at each other.  They were trapped in a building with armed men and no way of summoning help.  They were on their own.</p><p>A feeling of dread, mixed with an intense desire to get out, settled over them.</p><p>Crawling out of the dusty space underneath the seating Claire peeked up towards the doorways.  The lecture hall was deserted.  She beckoned Brains out of their hiding place and the two of them dashed across the dais towards an illuminated fire exit sign in the back corner.  The followed the green arrows along a service corridor.  Unfortunately, instead of leading to a simple push-bar door the exit barring their way had a more complex locking arrangement.  It was securely sealed. </p><p>“Well we won’t be getting out this way” Claire groaned as she kicked ineffectually at the door.</p><p>“N-n-now what?”</p><p>“We try something different.  Come on.”  </p><p>She led the way back towards the auditorium and up towards the exits their fellow conference-goes had been herded out of.  A quick check assured her that the exhibition hall was also deserted.</p><p>Claire and Brains made their way around the perimeter of the room.  At each exit to the outside world they tried the doors but all were sealed shut, evidently locked via some central control.  At each corridor opening they paused and listened, trying to judge where the armed men had gone.</p><p>At the second corridor they struck gold.  Voices drifted out of the corridor, spilling from a room about half way along.  Fear of discovery urged them to move on but they forced themselves to pause.  To listen.  It seemed that the terrorists were arguing.  </p><p>It’s bigger than I thought it would be<br/>It’s not my fault it won’t fit.  <br/>We’ll just have to make transport part of our demands</p><p>Evidently theft of some new invention had been their plan.  They were about continue their search for an escape route when the voices started up again.</p><p>Where are the hostages?<br/>Got them locked up in D wing.<br/>Any trouble?<br/>That lot? No way.  I left Mike and Artem on guard but there is no way they are getting out.<br/>Come on, we need to measure this thing.  </p><p>An idea struck Claire.  To Brains’ dismay she slipped in to the corridor towards the voices.  Not wanting to be left on his own he reluctantly followed her.  As they reached the open doorway she gestured for Brains to stay back against the wall.  Checking that the terrorists were all absorbed with the item on display in the room she dashed unseen across the open doorway.</p><p>The double doors to the room opened outwards into the corridor.  She took hold of the door on her side while Brains, having realised her intention, took hold of the other.  </p><p>On a silent count of three they slammed the doors shut.  Brains hit the lock symbol of the nearby keypad.  The terrorists were now trapped.</p><p>They paused for a moment as they leaned against the wall.  Their heavy breathing having more to do with the rising adrenalin levels than the brief moment of exertion.</p><p>Thankfully the jailhouse vibe of the building was more than just aesthetic.  An angry banging sounded as the terrorists attempted to break down the door but the locks and reinforced steel held firm.</p><p>“We still c-c-can’t get out through.  And there are at least t-t-two others s-s-somewhere.”</p><p>That was a definite problem.</p><p>“If only w-w-we had our equipment.  W-w-we could s-s-soon break out of here.”  Brains sounded deflated after their moment of triumph.</p><p>As if a lightbulb had been switched on Claire realised that was the answer.  Breaking out.  She grabbed Brains by the hand and dragged him back toward the exhibition space. </p><p>“So what if we don’t have access to International Rescue kit.  Look around.  We are at one of the leading science exhibitions in the world.  There has got to be something here we can use.”  </p><p>She grabbed one of the large scale floor plans off a display board settled them down in a secluded corner, well hidden from D corridor where at least two more of the terrorist group were based.  </p><p>D corridor itself was dominated by a large seminar room.  The conference organisers had kept the room free as a refreshments area with space for the delegates to network.  She surmised that this room had now been commandeered as a temporary prison.</p><p>She and Brains reviewed the floor plan, marking off stands and exhibition rooms they wanted to pilfer for supplies.</p><p>The first step was to be able to defend themselves and neutralise the remaining terrorists.  </p><p>A trip to the medical sciences zone furnished them with some anaesthetic and hypodermic needles.  With a bit of improvisation Brains managed to construct some viable tranquilizer guns.  They wouldn’t be particularly accurate but Brains and Claire knew they would have the element of surprise on their side.  As long as they could shoot from close range the darts should find their mark.</p><p>They crept between the display stands, keeping low as they headed to where the other delegates were being held.  </p><p>Claire and Brains moved as silently as they could.  The hearts pounded in anticipation.</p><p>D corridor was an L-shaped affair with the doors to the seminar room out of sight around the corner.  Voices drifted towards them.  It sounded like just two men and they were evidently bored.  They moaned to each other about being left on guard duty.  A task they clearly felt was pointless with everyone securely locked up. </p><p>They didn’t realise their lives were about to get a lot more interesting.</p><p>Brains, who at least had some training on a more traditional tranquilizer gun, stepped around the corner and fired his makeshift invention twice in quick succession.  The surprised expressions on the guards’ faces went slack as the anaesthetic entered their bloodstream.  Their weapons, which they hadn’t even had time to raise, fell to the floor with a clatter.  Two unconscious bodies quickly followed.</p><p>Claire and Brains ran forwards and bound the men securely.  The men were now dead weights.  The scientists were glad the floor was so highly polished as the dragged them out of the way and dumped them in a side room.  </p><p>Brains stood sentry at the corridor corner while Claire ran back to the now unguarded doorway.  She punched at the key pad but the doors remained stubbornly locked.  Scared voices called out from inside but she was unable to free the prisoners.  The thick doors muffled their words but she could tell something was wrong</p><p>She called for calm and asked for a single spokesperson to give an update on their condition. Evidently one of the delegates had attempted to tackle their captors on the way in and had received a blow to the head with a rifle butt.  The wound was still bleeding and the man clearly needed medical attention sooner rather than later.</p><p>Hurrying back to Brains she relayed the situation.  As a doctor his main concern was now for the man on the other side of the door.  Priorities had changed.  Freeing the hostages became more important than overall escape.</p><p>“C-c-can you open the d-d-door?”</p><p>“No.  Electronics aren’t really my thing.  You try.”</p><p>They swapped over and for the first time in her life Claire found herself holding what could loosely be termed as a weapon.  She knew the tranquilizer gun wasn’t designed to kill.  That was probably just as well.  Her initial fear had turned to anger towards those that had engineered this situation.  Theft of intellectual property and inventions was a topic that riled her like no other.  The tranquilizer gun was held firm and steady in her hand as she pointed it down the corridor.</p><p>Brains was soon back with her.  The disappointment of failure clearly etched on his face.</p><p>“I-I-I can’t override the system.  I n-n-need to get in there though.  I’m s-s-seriously worried about the injured m-m-man.”</p><p>“Then we just need a Plan B”</p><p>Claire led the way back into the exhibition space.  </p><p>“Can you rig some sort of fuse?” she asked as she gathered up various materials.</p><p>“Of c-c-course.  Physical or electronic?”</p><p>“Physical.  If radio signals are down we don’t know how a remote detonator will perform.”</p><p>“Hang on.  D-d-detonator?  What exactly are you p-p-planning.”</p><p>Claire waved a block of putty at him.  The grin on her face was quite intimidating.</p><p>“I’ve found me some plastic explosives.  This should get us through the door.”</p><p>Brains stepped quickly backwards.  “Is that w-w-wise?”  The putty was making him highly nervous.</p><p>“Look, I trusted you not to kill anyone with the anaesthetic doses.  I need you to trust me on this.  I spent ages playing with variants of this stuff as an undergrad.”</p><p>With all the materials gathered together they made their way back to D corridor.  Working quickly and quietly Claire carefully pressed the putty into strategic points around the door frame and lock.  Wires were then inserted into the putty blocks.  It took several minutes before she was happy with the configuration and amounts of explosives.</p><p>Claire instructed everyone inside the room to move to the far end and shield themselves with upturned tables.  She and Brains then retreated around the corner of the corridor.  With the fuse primed and ready to go she tripped the ignition switch.</p><p>The sound of the explosion reverberated down the corridor and smoke billowed towards them.</p><p>As soon as the smoke cleared slightly Brains took off towards the seminar room and the man he now viewed as his patient.  </p><p>Claire realised that it wasn’t just the sound of Brains running that she could hear.  More footsteps headed her way.  </p><p>She raised the tranquilizer gun in anticipation.</p>
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<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Intense blue eyes pinned Claire to her seat.  </p><p>“Let me get this straight.  You defied the orders of armed terrorists, risked capture or worse with your stunt to lock them up, then took out a wall with an explosion you rigged from stuff you just found lying around.  You put yourself and Brains in unnecessary danger.  Do you realise how unbelievably stupid and reckless that was?”</p><p>Claire dropped her eyes, unable meet the Commander’s gaze any longer.  When it was put bluntly like that it did sound completely stupid.  It was her first experience of an International Rescue debrief session and she was finding herself uncomfortably in the spotlight.</p><p>“Give her a break.  It was a successful mission.  The GDF have got the terrorists in custody and no one got hurt.”</p><p>Scott rounded on Gordon.</p><p>“No one got hurt?  She shot Virgil!  She could have shot you!  Sixteen hours it took for him to come round.”</p><p>“At least is was only a tranquilizer dart.  You saw the weapons those guys were carrying.  It could have been a lot worse.”</p><p>And that was the crux of the matter.  It <em>could</em> have been a lot worse.  Scott was one tense ball of worry from all the ‘might have beens’ and the stress was radiating off him.  The stress only increasing as each new piece of information was revealed.</p><p>Gordon had seen this before.  He knew Scott blamed himself for sending him and Virgil into the unknown.  Knew how much Scott would have hated being an outsider to the situation, stuck waiting for the GDF to arrive with nothing but ominous radio silence and his own thoughts for company.  Scott was used to being in the centre of the action.  Used to being in control.  He was not a natural bystander.</p><p>But on this mission he had been a bystander.  He hadn’t been the one forced to make split second decisions while fearing for his life.  He also hadn’t seen the moment of horrified realisation that crossed Claire’s face as she released the dart, too late to stop its inevitable trajectory.  Only Gordon had been witness to her anguish and pain and he knew Claire was punishing herself enough without Scott using the debrief to add to her guilt.</p><p>“Stay out of this Gordon.”</p><p>Gordon stood his ground.  </p><p>Normally Virgil was the peacemaker.  The one to tell Scott when he had overstepped the mark.  Defender of little brothers when the worry morphed too far into chastisement.  But Virgil was still too groggy to take an active part in proceedings.  He was present at the debrief but the chestnut brown eyes were unfocussed; an after-effect of the anaesthetic.   Despite his bulk Virgil tended to have a bit of an extreme reaction to pharmaceuticals and Brains’ impromptu tranquilizer gun had packed a powerful punch. </p><p>“C’mon Scott.  You’ve had our reports.  Going over it again won’t change what happened.  Everyone came home safely, just remember that.”</p><p>Scott visibly deflated.  </p><p>Seizing upon this as a sign of silent dismissal, the room emptied.</p><p>xoxoxox</p><p>After being dragged over the coals Claire didn’t feel able to face Brains or anyone else for that matter.  Instead of returning to her usual bench in the labs she headed out towards the beach in the hope that fresh air and solitude would give her space to think.  She certainly didn’t feel up to carrying on with her research yet.</p><p>She perched herself on a rock and gazed out over the vast ocean.  With no one else around she felt she could finally let down some of the barriers she had been maintaining.  Emotional shields to cut herself off during that tense time period where everyone had been worried about Virgil, waiting for him to regain consciousness, and then during the debrief.  The gentle sound of waves on the shore and breeze through the trees soothed her.  </p><p>“Is this rock taken?”</p><p>She jumped and the invisible armour instantly slotted back in to place.  She had been so lost in her own thoughts she hadn’t heard Virgil approaching.</p><p>“I thought Scott didn’t want you going anywhere alone yet?”</p><p>“I’m not alone, you’re here.”  He took a seat on the rock beside her.  “Unless you’re going to run away and find a new hiding place.”</p><p>“I’m not hiding.”</p><p>Warm brown eyes stared into her soul.  Eyes that were a lot more focussed now.  The last remnants of anaesthetic were finally leaving his system.  She could tell he didn’t believe her.  Her armour trembled.</p><p>“I’m…I’m sorry I shot you.”  It didn’t feel enough but it needed to be said.</p><p>“It’s ok, I’m fine.  No harm done.  At least we know who to send if we get called out to a rampaging rhinoceros.” </p><p>“How can you joke about this?”</p><p>“Who says I’m joking.  Seriously, even Kayo was impressed, and not just with the shooting.  What you and Brains pulled off out there was amazing.”</p><p>“No, it was stupid and dangerous.  You heard what Scott said.”</p><p>“Scott’s an idiot.  We do stupid and dangerous things every time we get called out and Scott is one of the worst culprits.  He only bawled you out because he was worried.  I’ll talk to him.”</p><p>“You don’t need to protect me.  I can look after myself.”</p><p>“I know you can look after yourself but that doesn’t mean you have to do everything alone.  I bet you haven’t even talked to anyone about what you really went through at the exhibition.”</p><p>“You were at the debrief.”</p><p>“I don’t mean the debrief.  For goodness sake Claire you were threatened by armed terrorists, things like that leave a mark on you.  All of us here have been in situations that have scared us.  Feeling scared is ok.  It’s part of being human.  During a mission you learn to tuck it away but at some point you have to deal with it otherwise that mission will haunt you forever.  If you don’t want to talk to me then talk to Scott, or John, or even Gordon; all of them will understand.  But please, talk to someone.”</p><p>Claire’s armour shattered into a thousand pieces.  </p><p>As the first sobs shook her body Virgil pulled her close into the hug she so desperately needed.  He stroked her back as she let the fear and stress drain away.  Tears soaked into flannel.  Strong arms encircled her in a cocoon of safety, their warm embrace giving a feeling of security as all her vulnerabilities were laid bare.</p>
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<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 18</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Scott looked on in quiet amusement at the two pairs of legs sticking out from the inspection hatch.  Both sets of overalls were covered in grease stains and carbon residue.  One set was rolled up several inches leaving thick bands around the ankles.  He made a mental note to put some smaller overalls on the next supply order.  Virgil’s spare set swamped the much smaller chemist and he had his suspicions that Claire was going to be sticking around for a while.</p><p>Muffled voices drifted out from the inner workings of the giant green craft that was currently holding their attention.</p><p>“Can you increase the pressure inside the fuel injection system?”</p><p>“Possibly.  I might be able to increase the flow rate from the injector pump but she is already pretty highly strung.”</p><p>Scott knew that these discussions could have been kept within the labs and didn’t need a practical examination of Thunderbird Two but Virgil was proud of his craft and for once his audience seemed quite willing.  He also knew this was something Brains could have gone over with Claire but his brother seemed to be taking a deep personal interest in the project.  If he wasn’t out on a mission or working out he could generally be found with the two scientists getting up to speed on the progress that had been made.</p><p>Scott aimed a kick at one of the larger boots and was rewarded with the sound of cursing and dropped tools.</p><p>Virgil shuffled out of the hatch to investigate.</p><p>“What the hell, Scott?  Can’t you just use the comms like any normal person?”</p><p>Scott quirked an eyebrow.</p><p>“Sorry, am I interrupting something?”</p><p>He received a glare from Virgil that only served to confirm his suspicions.</p><p>By this time Claire had also extricated herself from inside the plane.  She grabbed a cloth and wiped the grease off her hands, an action that was hampered by the long sleeves that were rolled up just as much as the legs.  </p><p>She was still wary of Scott and wasn’t quite sure how to read him.  Sometimes he was completely relaxed but at others times the Commander persona came to the fore and she felt like she would never measure up the high standards he expected.   </p><p>Virgil helped her to her feet then turned back to his older brother.</p><p>“So why are you down here?” </p><p>“Just checking up on how things are going.”  The specifics of exactly what things were left vague.</p><p>“It’s going fine.  We should be able to move on to field testing soon.  The samples all performed as expected under lab conditions and production now seems consistent.”</p><p>Scott nodded.  “That’s good.  Just let me know when you are ready but don’t rush it.  We can’t risk retuning Two and filling her with this new juice until you are absolutely certain it’s safe to take to the skies.”</p><p>“You don’t have to worry about that.  With both Claire and Brains on the case there is no way a single drop is going in the tanks until they are both certain the mix is right.”</p><p>Of that, Scott was in no doubt.  Brains had a tendency to overengineer everything and, when it came to her lab work, Claire was equally safety conscious.  Coupled with Virgil’s devotion to his ‘bird that bordered on infatuation the three made a good team.</p><p>He paused, as though deliberating some internal turmoil.  Sometimes he wished he could just let things run their course but they had responsibilities and International Rescue needed it’s operatives to be fully focussed.</p><p>“Virg, get cleaned up.  I want you upstairs in my office in five minutes.”  He turned and left leaving no room for arguments or questions.  </p><p>Precisely five minutes later Virgil entered the office and claimed a seat.</p><p>“What’s this about, Scott?”</p><p>“Is there anything I ought to know?”</p><p>“Meaning?”</p><p>“Meaning, is there anything going on between you and Claire that I ought to be aware of?  The pair of you seem to be spending an awful lot of time together lately”</p><p>“Of course we are spending a lot of time together.  Weren’t you listening down in the hangars?  We are nearly ready for live testing.  Seriously Scott, we are just friends.”</p><p>He received a raised eyebrow in return.  Scott knew his brothers.  In the same way it was obvious to him that Gordon harboured stronger than average feelings towards Lady Penelope, so it was clear that Virgil was drawn to the laboratories by more than just the project.  Evidently, if Virgil’s feelings were reciprocated then Claire wasn’t acting on it.  He just hoped Virgil didn’t get hurt; from what he had seen the chemist was more volatile than the substances that were the tools of her trade.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter 19</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Claire sat on a bench in the locker room near the hangers, wrestling with a rust coloured boot.  After a determined tug her foot popped around the bend in the heel and she was able to close the seals around her calf.  </p><p>The synthetic fuel had been cleared for field testing.  She knew Virgil was already in the cockpit of Thunderbird Two, waiting for her to suit up.  She didn’t want to keep him waiting.  She was looking forward to spending some time with the engineer.</p><p>She wondered how her life had managed to take such a surprising change in direction.  Just a few short months ago International Rescue was just a name that appeared in news reports.  Anonymous heroes who swooped to the rescue.  Now it meant a houseful of people who risked their lives on a daily basis to help whoever made the call.  People that she was proud to call her friends.  Her thoughts lingered on one particular operative that she wished was more than just a friend.</p><p>As she adjusted the prototype uniform she reflected on exactly how this particular development had come about.</p><p>It had been a difficult day for all of them.  One of those days when the tension in the villa thrummed like an over tightened guitar string.  One of those rare days when Scott had announced he was out of his depth and called for outside assistance over the comms.  He had made an error and needed help dealing with the fallout, both literally and figuratively.  It had fallen to Claire to guide him through the process of decontamination from the material that coated himself and his body cam, obscuring Claire’s view of the tools and substances at his disposal.  That coating had turned out to be lithium hydride, a tricky substance that had the tendency to spontaneously ignite in humid air.  It was a tense time as she talked the First Responder through the clean up procedures, all the while hoping he wasn’t about to catch fire.  </p><p>When Scott had finally made it home some 20 hours later he looked distinctly older than when he had set out.  He had announced that perhaps there would be times when it would be useful to take the chemist out in the field to try and avoid these situations occurring in the first place.  Claire had been inclined to agree with him; if Scott had paused and consulted her before charging into the factory he would never have got coated in the volatile substance in the first place.</p><p>What followed was a whirlwind of sketches, concept design and finally the prototype uniform.  </p><p>A uniform that was currently highlighting its flaws and would definitely need a redesign.  </p><p>She would gladly have gone on the test flight in her usual clothes but Scott has insisted that, since she had a uniform, she should wear it when going off-island on International Rescue business.</p><p>Claire gave up trying to get the zip on her back done up.  She picked up the helmet and rebreather kit that turned her uniform into a grade two certified hazmat suit and headed towards the hangers.</p><p>xoxoxox</p><p>Virgil looked up from his pre-flight systems checks as Claire entered the cockpit.  Technically he could have taken this test flight alone but he thought the chemist ought to get the chance to experience the result of her hard work first hand.  </p><p>If he was being completely honest he found himself seeking out opportunities to spend time alone with Claire.  He pushed those thoughts out of his mind.  Claire was dedicated to her work.  She seemed to enjoy his company but had given no indications that she was interested in him being anything more than a friend.  She was a professional to the core.</p><p>“I hope we won’t be needing those” he said, indicating the helmet and rebreather in her hands.</p><p>“You and me both, but Scott said to keep all the parts to hand.”</p><p>Virgil knew the sense in that.  You never knew what could happen when out on a mission and it paid to be prepared.  His own helmet was close at hand.  </p><p>“So how does it feel?  Does everything fit?” </p><p>His eyes raked up and down the petite form, currently clad in the ruddy tones that marked her out as one half of International Rescue’s scientific division.  Of course it fitted perfectly.  The full body scans taken as part of her medical had ensured that the garment was perfectly sculpted to her form.</p><p>He forced his eyes back to her face, hoping she hadn’t noticed his lingering gaze.</p><p>“Well the material is a little stiff.  I think the polymer coating is reducing its flexibility.  It also takes far too long to get on.  The biggest problem though is this.”</p><p>She spun around revealing the triangle of bare flesh at the top of her back.  </p><p>“If the main fastening stays at the back I’m going to have to get changed into uniform en-route so one of you others can buddy check my seals.  I just can’t reach it right.  Please can you finish doing me up?”</p><p>Virgil felt a lump form in his throat.</p><p>Claire held her ponytail out of the way so Virgil could finish closing the zip without snagging her hair.  A firm hand then ran slowly up her spine from base to neck, sealing shut the protective flap that covered the zip.  Claire’s body tingled in response.  Her mind wandered, imagining those same strong hands reversing the action later and freeing her from her uniform.  She gave herself a mental shake.  This was Virgil.  A colleague.  It was…inappropriate.</p><p>Virgil returned to the pilot’s seat while Claire took the co-pilot’s side that was normally occupied by Gordon.  </p><p>This would be her first time being piloted by Virgil but not her first time flying in Thunderbird Two.  That first trip was tainted with bad memories.  Her first flight had been spent in worried silence.  Gordon at the controls.  Virgil in the med bay, out cold from the dart she had been responsible for shooting.  She was still haunted by visions of Virgil crashing to the floor of the conference centre, the dart stuck in his chest.</p><p>The atmosphere in the cockpit today was excited rather then worried, but still serious.  </p><p>The ability to control the Thunderbirds remotely meant that several test ignitions had been trailed but this would be the first true flight using the new fuel.  The chance to test if reality lived up to expectations.</p><p>Virgil opened the comms link to both island control and Thunderbird Five.</p><p>“Pre-flight checks complete.  Everything responding as expected.  Thunderbird Two is ready for take off.”</p><p>“I’ll be keeping a running watch on your systems readouts and I’ll keep comms open,” John responded, his hologram floating above the control console.  “Stick to you pre-programmed route I’ve sent you.  I’ve alerted the GDF that you are on manoeuvres so we can expect a call from Aunt Val later.”</p><p>“Why are the GDF involved?” Claire asked.</p><p>“Just common courtesy.  We give the GDF a rough flight plan and they alert any military operational in the area.  It saves any cases of mistaken identity.  We don’t want Two shot down again.”  John replied.</p><p>Claire looked alarmed.</p><p>“That only happened the once, Johnny.”  Virgil had still never truly forgiven the US Navy for crippling his beautiful ‘bird.</p><p>“Yeah, well that was once too many.”</p><p>Scott’s voice cut in.  “If you two have quite finished…”</p><p>The rock wall disguising the hangar entrance lowered as Scott activated the mechanism from inside the villa. </p><p>Virgil taxied his Thunderbird out on to the launch pad.  The pad tilted upwards and the view from the cockpit changed from one of sea to one of sky.</p><p>Virgil directed power towards the thrusters.</p><p>An intense roar filled the cockpit.  Vibrations built up in intensity.  The mighty craft slid forwards and took to the skies.</p><p>“Thunderbird Two is go.”</p><p>xoxoxox</p><p>Virgil concentrated intently on the flight.  He had spent so many hours flying Thunderbird Two that he was fully attuned to her quirks and moods.  He felt each difference in response and behaviour without the need to check the instruments for confirmation.  The engine pitch was slightly lower.  The vibrations slightly stronger.  He tried a few turns and altitude adjustments and was pleased to see that Two responded just as well as before.</p><p>It was time to test her for speed.</p><p>Virgil eased the throttle forwards.  Scott’s voice came over the comms, reading out their velocity in increments.</p><p>“6,000 kilometres per hour.”</p><p>“6,500 kilometres per hour.”</p><p>“7,000 kilometres per hour.  Approaching previous top speed.”</p><p>Virgil continued to push the throttle.  He could feel that Two had more to give.</p><p>“8,000 kilometres per hour.”</p><p>“9,000 kilometres per hour.”</p><p>As each increment was read out the tone became excited.</p><p>“10,000 kilometres per hour.”</p><p>Claire looked across at Virgil.  A huge grin was plastered across his face at the raw power under his control.  It was as if Two was singing to him.  She hummed as he pushed the throttle to the maximum.</p><p>“10,200 kilometre per hour” he whooped.  “Maximum throttle reached.  Easing off now and returning to base.”</p><p>“FAB Virgil.  See you back home soon.”</p><p>The pure delight Virgil was experiencing was evident.  He practically bounced as he guided the craft back over the Pacific Ocean.  Their island home was soon visible again.</p><p>Virgil switched to VTOLs and brought them in to land.</p><p>xoxoxox</p><p>The two occupants of the cockpit grinned at each other, their eyes shining.  They were buoyed by the thrill of success.</p><p>Harnesses were released.</p><p>Claire found herself enveloped in one of Virgil’s bear hugs.  The air nearly crushed out of her body by his exuberance, her body held firmly against his chest.  She found herself returning the hug, wrapping her arms around his waist, burying herself in those powerful muscles.</p><p>“You did it!  You actually did it!” </p><p>Virgil was still riding the high of emotion.  Claire’s feet lifted off the floor in the engineer’s delight.  When she was placed back down she felt a kiss planted on the top of her head.</p><p>The pair of them both stilled and stiffened as the action registered.  </p><p>Claire looked up to meet warm brown eyes that looked ashamed, scared...hopeful?</p><p>Virgil cursed his lack of self-control.  In that one unguarded moment he had risked everything.  Claire had changed a lot since coming to the island but she could still be prickly on occasion.  Her flares of temper were becoming less frequent; there was more laughter, more enjoyment in being part of a team, but she had never invited him to cross this line.  </p><p>Virgil braced himself for the backlash.</p><p>The backlash never came.</p><p>Their eyes remained locked.  Neither let go of the other.  Arms continued to encircle bodies pressed close together.</p><p>Claire found herself sinking into those chestnut depths. </p><p>Lips tentatively met, at first hesitant with the fear of rejection, then pressed more firmly as each explored the object of their secret desires.  Neither wanted to that moment to end.  Blue pressed against rust, the colour the only way of distinguishing the entwined bodies.</p><p>When they finally broke apart, eyes bright and cheeks flushed, Claire reflected that she might not have got the research grant but she had surely won the greatest Tracy prize of all.</p>
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